Swept Away
by Shadow-Hawk2
Summary: Their mutual past threatens to unravel the lives Dorothy and Quatre have made apart.
1. Chapter 1

Point One: Someone else created the Gundam Wing characters. I'm only borrowing them.

Point Two: I like romance, so I am writing a sappy romance with some drama on the side. No juvenile humor this time around.

Point Three: If you have read my other fanfictions, this is not a sequel or prequel or anything between. I treated Dorothy and Quatre so badly in my previous fanfiction that I wanted to give them a story. 

Point Four: I hope you enjoy

****

Earth Sphere United Nation Headquarters

"...At eight o'clock, the foreign minister has a press conference scheduled to announce details of his recent trip to Colony L4, in particular the results of his negotiations with the terrorists who hijacked the shuttle."

"I will assume that the public relations director himself will handle that press conference." Dorothy Catalonia, deputy public relations director of the Earth Sphere United Nations Alliance, was checking messages on her telecom as she listened to her assistant review the daily agenda. Scanning the many messages, she didn't noticed anything unusual at first, then as she looked further down the list, she noticed one with a red flag, and seeing who it was from, she frowned and pursed her lips.

"Is there something wrong?" asked her assistant, Tracy James, a highly competent woman who was several years older than Dorothy's twenty-five. 

Dorothy glanced at her. "Will you please arrange a meeting for me with Vice Foreign minister Darlian as soon as possible?"

Tracy nodded and walked out. Dorothy opened the message and glared at the screen as she read the words:

__

Dorothy, 

I know you are expecting me to attend the charity ball on behalf of the Earth Sphere United Nations, but I am not feeling well today and I really don't think I can make it through it. I know you will do an admirable job standing in for me. Relena

The telecom buzzed, and when Dorothy took the call, she was not surprised that Tracy had quickly arranged for a meeting with Relena Darlian within the hour despite the busy schedule of the Vice Foreign Minister. Dorothy drummed her fingers on her desk as she punched in another number, which connected her with the chief of special covert operations.

"Miss Catalonia, what can I do for you?" 

She stared straight at his face. "I'm going to get right to the point, Bill. Has Heero Yuy returned from his latest assignment?"

"You know I can't answer such questions. His whereabouts are classified."

Dorothy glared at him. "I have clearance to know that kind of information."

Bill Morley shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then answered, "He returned late last night."

Dorothy pressed the button to close the communication, then picked up her portfolio and walked out of her office, telling Tracy that she would be meeting with Relena Darlian. Tracy was wise enough not to question her when she was in as sour a mood as Dorothy presently was. The charity ball was one of the most important public relations events of the year, given to raise money to aid orphans of the many conflicts in the poorer regions of the United Earth Sphere. Dorothy could not believe that Relena would miss it!

Relena's secretary didn't try to stop her, but hurried to open the door for her, and Dorothy found the Vice Foreign minister sitting behind her desk rubbing her temples. "I had a feeling I'd be seeing you this morning."

Dorothy waited for the door to close behind her before she spoke. "Don't bother lying to me, Relena. I know damn well that Heero Yuy is in the city, and my guess is that it is not for long or you wouldn't even think about not attending the charity ball."

"I have a migraine," Relena told her with a straight face. "These things only get worse."

Narrowing her eyes, Dorothy frowned at her, then said, "You simply must attend. I have no intention of replacing you. The people attending will be expecting the queen of the world..."

"You give me too much credit," Relena interrupted her with a smile. "And you may as well save your breath, Dorothy, because I have already discussed the matter with the public relations director and he agreed that you would be a suitable substitute. You are well acquainted with all the regular people who gather at these functions and can probably pry open their wallets better than I."

"I am not going," stated Dorothy. She didn't want to go. She wouldn't go. She couldn't go.

"I don't suppose the fact that Quatre Winner will be there has anything to do with your refusal," commented Relena slyly. 

Pursing her lips together tightly, Dorothy did not respond. The last thing she wanted to do was to discuss Quatre Winner with Relena. 

"I hope you have a gown for such an occasion," said Relena with ill-concealed glee. "And I expect you to give me a full account of the event, at least what won't be reported in the media."

Dorothy spun on her heel and marched to the door.

"Don't forget to give my regards to Quatre. I haven't seen him in years, not since his wedding."

As she walked back to her office, Dorothy tried not to think about Quatre Winner, but that was all that she could think about with each step she took. She especially did not want to think about the last time she had seen Quatre Winner, when she hadn't any clue that he was considering marriage to another woman. Had she known, she wouldn't have become involved with him to such a foolish degree. The affair had left a scar on her heart. Since the day he walked out of her life, she hadn't allowed herself to get close to any man. Very few actually knew what had happened between her and Quatre five years ago, and Dorothy preferred to keep it that way, not even telling Relena. 

After leaving Relena's office, she attended the morning meeting with the public relations director during which he informed the entire staff that Dorothy would be attending the charity ball in Relena Darlian's place. Nobody had an objection, so Dorothy didn't bother voicing her own. When she did return to her office, Dorothy asked Tracy to make an appointment with a designer, then she left a message with her date for the evening, Randolph Morrison, to inform him of the change in their plans. Instead of a quiet dinner at an exclusive restaurant, they would be surrounded by hundreds of people, dressed in extremely uncomfortable clothing. Randolph would take the change with good grace, which was far from what Dorothy was feeling at this moment.

Once she was seated behind her desk, the appointment set for the afternoon with a dress designer then a hairdresser, Dorothy drummed her fingers on her immaculate desktop, staring at the blank screen of her computer. Although there were press releases to be prepared and public relations opportunities to arrange, Dorothy couldn't bring herself to do any work. The thought that she would see Quatre was bad enough, but there was the very real possibility that she would have to speak to him. Dorothy didn't know if she was ready for that, not even after five years. 

Although she was angry with herself for doing so, Dorothy keyed in the information to call up the file on Quatre Raberba Winner. Dorothy knew everything about him already, that he was the richest man in the solar system, that his business enterprises continued to grow exponentially, that his companies employed millions throughout the colonies and Earth. Five years ago he had married the daughter of one of his executive officers, Hassan Barak, who since then had taken a position to oversee large portions of the Winner financial empire. With the exotically beautiful Sadirah Barak, Quatre had a daughter, now four years old. Although there were many pictures of Quatre and his stunning wife, Dorothy couldn't find a single picture of Jamila Winner. Dorothy imagined her with the dark hair and eyes of her mother, another beauty in the making. Quatre was probably very proud of his daughter and guarded her privacy. Dorothy would do the same, if she had a child.

Before she could dwell on the subject and invite a fit of depression, Dorothy shut down her computer, grabbed her purse and left the office. On the way to the dress designer's shop, she stopped by the investment firm where Randolph worked. She wasn't sure why she wanted to invite him to lunch when they both usually worked through lunch, but Dorothy thought it might be nice to have some company. However, his secretary informed her that Mr. Morrison was in meetings all morning and would be taking a working lunch with a client.

So Dorothy went alone to the restaurant, and the maitre d' didn't bat an eye to see her without an escort. He led her to a table, made his knowledgeable recommendations, and then left her with a glass of Chablis as she awaited her meal. 

_"Are you waiting for someone?"_

Dorothy looked up from her glass of wine and was barely able to conceal her surprise. She had come to Barbados to get away from everyone who knew her, to have some time to herself. The truth of the matter was that Dorothy realized she was completely alone, her family gone through the fault of their own greedy machinations. Dorothy had almost suffered the same fate on the White Fang, but somehow she managed to survive. Her escape seemed to demonstrate her own weakness that in the end she had betrayed her family by preferring to live rather than die for their ideals. She needed time to sort out what had become of her life.

"May I join you?"

He was still waiting, not taking her silence as an answer. "Do what you want, Quatre Raberba Winner."

As he slid onto the seat opposite her, he signaled to a waiter who quickly brought a glass to him. At first Dorothy thought he might be drinking wine too and relegated him to the status of hypocrite when she knew his beliefs forbade the consumption of alcohol, but when the waiter refilled his glass she saw that it was white grape juice.

"So what are you doing in Barbados, Mr. Winner?" she asked after taking a sip of her wine. 

He raised a brow. "I might ask the same of you, Miss Dorothy."

His voice was deeper than she remembered, and the way he said her name struck a chord inside her. Not wanting to acknowledge any kind of attraction to the former gundam pilot, she took a longer drink from her wine, prompting the waiter to step forward to refill her goblet. 

"I am here on business," he told her, then added, "And maybe a little pleasure."

What did that mean? Dorothy's mouth felt dry and she hated this feeling of not being in control of the Winner runt. Runt? Quatre Winner wasn't a runt anymore. How long had it been since she had seen the boy last, after the defeat of Dekim Barton? Two years? Quatre wasn't a boy anymore. He had added some inches to his height, some mass to his form. His lean, darkly tanned face had certainly left boyhood behind. The look in his blue eyes as he gave her the same silent perusal made her shiver with a wicked pleasure that she tried to deny.

"You haven't answered my question, Miss Dorothy," he reminded her. 

His blond brows were arched as he waited for her answer. "I am on vacation," she told him. She didn't actually have nor need a job from which to take a vacation, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

"Are you alone?" he asked, those brows still raised in question.

Would she ever be anything other than alone now that her family was gone?

"I don't think that is any of your business," she all but snapped at him, seizing her glass and drinking more. If she drank enough, he might get disgusted enough to leave her to her self-pity.

Quatre signaled to the waiter who quickly came to him. When Quatre asked for the check, Dorothy was relieved he was leaving, but she became angry when he insisted on paying for her drinks and tossing a credit card to the waiter.

After signing the receipt, he rose. "Let's go."

"Go?" she repeated, glaring at the hand he held out to her. "I haven't eaten yet." 

"On the way here, I saw an outdoor restaurant that serves those drinks with umbrellas."

"You don't drink alcohol," she reminded him tartly. Dorothy wasn't really considering going anywhere with Quatre Winner, but the hand he still held out to her really was inviting. 

"That isn't the point, Miss Dorothy. I'm a little tired of these elegant restaurants that are the same wherever I go. Why bother having a vacation in Barbados if you aren't going to do anything different?"

Her heart was pounding erratically in her chest as Dorothy realized this might be a defining moment in her life. She could stay and continue her routine uneventful existence, or she could take the chance that there was something better for her.

As she took his hand, their eyes met, and she felt swept away.

"We may wish to consider seriously suspending operations on the L4 colony until the issues the extremist rebels have with the government have been resolved."

Perusing the latest report from his home colony, Quatre Winner glanced up to look at his father-in-law. Hassan Barak met his gaze with what Quatre would only term as unfeeling dark eyes, so much like his daughter's that Quatre preferred to look at his report. "I don't think I need to remind you that economic conditions on L4 are strained as it is."

"Another reason to suspend operations. The insurance rates for those enterprises have skyrocketed and costs of doing business there had quadrupled since the current administration took office. We can't afford to keep throwing money down the drain there." Quatre could feel Barak's gaze steady on him, so he turned his head to look out the tinted glass window of the limousine carrying him through the city. He wondered what his father would do in this situation. Barak had known his father, had worked for him for many years, and yet Quatre often wondered if he actually understood the Winner family ideals.

"We employ ten thousand people on L4," Quatre said without looking at the older man. He wished he were walking among the people going about their everyday lives, without the responsibilities that came with wealth and power.

"We have to consider the financial health of the company," argued Barak.

Quatre closed his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger. At this rate he was going to have a headache even before returning to the hotel to change for the charity ball. "I'm not going to put ten thousand people out of work at a time when they desperately need income."

"You're making a mistake." Barak snapped his portfolio shut just as the limousine pulled to a stop before the hotel. 

Quatre looked at his tight-lipped father-in-law. "I shouldn't have to remind you that those types of mistakes are mine to make." He started to exit the limousine as soon as the doorman opened the door, but Barak seized his arm.

"You are wrong, Quatre. If you continue to make business decisions using your heart instead of your head, you may find yourself losing everything we have gained in the last five years. I have to consider my daughter and my granddaughter. I would rather you didn't turn them into beggars because you have a soft heart."

Sighing, Quatre conceded a little to appease the other man. "I will look into your suggestion further. But I would rather it be the last step."

A couple of guards followed Quatre from the limousine to the hotel and up to the penthouse suite where they positioned themselves outside his door. Although he hadn't been personally threatened, Barak insisted that they were a necessity given the unpredictable behavior of the extremist rebels on L4. Quatre felt more like a prisoner than a man whose life was being guarded from possible terrorist attacks.

Entering the suite, he could hear the tinkling of piano music, played with little skill, a few notes missed in a rather easy song. Quatre pulled off his jacket and tossed it over a chair then undid the cuffs to his shirt and rolled them up as he slid onto the piano bench next to the aspiring virtuoso at the grand piano.

"I can almost play it, papa!" His beautiful four-year-old daughter tilted her face up to his, and he kissed her cheek. Her soft golden curls bounced as she turned her attention back to the ivory keys. She made several mistakes during her recital, but Quatre felt his heart swell with joy as he watched her concentrate. 

With her blond hair and blue eyes, Jamila didn't resemble her Barak family at all, and for that Quatre was quite glad. There were times that he could almost pretend that she was unrelated to her mother and grandfather. Through the years Quatre had come to realize that they were rather heartless and selfish. Quatre wasn't even exactly sure how he had become involved with Sadirah, waking up one morning, his head pounding, and the beautiful daughter of his father's friend naked in his bed with him. He didn't remember taking advantage of her although she was quite distraught and embarrassed. Quatre wished he knew how they ended up in bed together. 

He remembered the dinner party welcoming her home to L4 for vacation from school, that he had been more than a little depressed after his trip to Barbados. While talking to Barak about the events after the dinner party, the older man gave him a glass of fine brandy, and although he refused at first, Quatre found that the burning liquid dulled the pain in his heart. He and Barak spoke for almost an hour, the older man giving him the sound advice his father might have had he been alive. On the way to his room, he ran into Sadirah. She was so different from the woman he had left behind in Barbados that he must have found her impossible to resist, even if just to get back at Dorothy Catalonia. Quatre didn't remember any details, but Sadirah was so ashamed that she went out of her way to avoid seeing him for the remainder of her vacation. Quatre was sure that her father didn't discover what had happened before she left the colony to return to school on Earth in Switzerland. 

Quatre had thought that was an end to another regrettable event in his life until several months later Barak was embarrassed to inform him that his daughter had to leave the school he worked so hard to afford for her because she was pregnant. When Barak told Quatre that Sadirah refused to name the father, Quatre got a rather unpleasant feeling in his gut. If he were the baby's father, he wouldn't shirk his responsibility to help raise it, and telling Barak about the mistake he had made with his daughter was the hardest thing he had ever done. Hassan Barak wasn't sympathetic with his daughter whom he reasoned should have behaved better. Her father had insisted on the paternity tests for the baby girl they had brought back from Earth. All of the tests had proven that Quatre was the baby's father with no margin for error. He married Sadirah hoping to make a family, to make an amends for his mistake.

But they were a family of only two. Sadirah rarely bothered with her daughter, focusing instead on her own selfish pursuits. As for her father, Barak was so concerned with enriching the Winner fortunes, which were now tied to his own, that he had little time for his granddaughter. As a result, Jamila spent most her time with a succession of nannies when Quatre could not be with her. When Jamila grew too close to a nanny, Sadirah would become jealous and promptly dismiss the woman. Although she didn't seem to want to be a mother, she did not want another woman to fill the role. Sadirah had no maternal instinct and had made very clear to Quatre that she had no intention of suffering the pains of childbirth again. 

"Will you play a song for me, papa?" asked Jamila, her limpid blue eyes wide and begging.

"How about Chopin?" Quatre cracked his knuckles which made his daughter giggle, then he began to play a relaxing melody. He was so intent on entertaining Jamila that he didn't hear the door open.

"Mama!" cried Jamila, her voice mingling apprehension and delight. Quatre hated that note in her voice more than anything. The little girl wanted her mother's love desperately, but Sadirah didn't seem capable of sparing even an iota of affection for her own child.

Quatre stopped playing and turned as he stood to look at her. Sadirah was a very beautiful woman, with rich dark hair, chocolate brown eyes and olive skin. There wasn't a man in the same room as her who could keep his eyes off the petite, slender woman with enough curves to attract a eunuch. She had celebrated her twenty-first birthday only a few weeks ago, so she was only now beginning to bloom with her full beauty. Quatre should have been proud to claim such a woman as his wife.

Sadirah didn't look at Jamila as she handed her coat and purse to a maid who waited for her to draw off her gloves. "I saw my father in the lobby," she commented without looking at Quatre. 

He pursed his lips for a moment tightly, then softened his expression as he turned back to Jamila. "Why don't you find Nanny Atifah? I will come to see you before I leave for the charity ball." Before she left, he kissed her cheek, and when she had disappeared into another room down the hall in the spacious suite, Quatre turned to look at his wife. "You father should not discuss business with you."

Sadirah tossed back her unbound dark hair. "He thought I should know of the foolish business decisions that you are making which might affect my future welfare."

"At least your father had the sense to include my daughter in his concern for the future."

"I am quite sure you have taken steps to insure _her_ financial future." She met his gaze levelly. 

"As I am quite sure you have taken steps to ensure _your_ own financial future," he remarked. 

For a moment she didn't respond, then she looked hurt. "I am only concerned about our daughter's future." The door opened behind her, and Rashid, Quatre's faithful former Maganac leader, entered the suite followed by several bellhops carrying bags from posh stores in the exclusive shopping district of the city. As Sadirah directed the traffic, Quatre took the opportunity to step out of the suite onto the balcony where he drew out a thin cigar from a slim golden case he had withdrawn from his jacket. He waited a moment before he felt another presence, then a flame flickered from a lighter, which Quatre used to light the cigar. He smoked for several moments in as much silence as he could have, high above the city, his wife's faint voice in the background as she ordered the bellhops. Quatre was content to watch the sky darken as he enjoyed his cigar.

Finally, he glanced to his side where Rashid stood silently contemplating the same sky. "You didn't have any trouble today?"

"None, unless you count the legions of dogs sniffing after your wife."

"Did she take an interest in any of those dogs?" 

"Master Quatre, she would not be so foolish to encourage another man in front of me." Rashid did not smile as he met Quatre's gaze. "She has too much to lose."

Quatre glanced back into the suite to see that Sadirah was holding up gowns and jewels, a look of pure rapture on her face. As if sensing his gaze, she looked toward him and the smile faltered just for a moment, then she tossed aside the gown and diamond necklace as if they were trinkets and headed toward him.

Rashid bowed his head respectfully and left before she came to take his hand. "We have a little time before the charity ball. Let me model what I have bought."

Quatre stubbed out the cigar on a crystal ashtray and allowed her to lead him back into the suite. "Let me get Jamila. She will enjoy the show."

His wife laughed huskily. "This won't be a show for her eyes."

Although he wanted to refuse, Quatre couldn't give up on the hope that being intimate with her might make Sadirah soften toward their daughter. But he suspected no matter what he did, she could not feel love for Jamila because despite all that Sadirah had gained from her marriage to Quatre, she could not erase the shame of bearing her child without a husband. And Quatre could not give up completely on this marriage, because that might hurt Jamila far more than her mother's disdain. Despite her lack of feelings for her daughter, Sadirah would not walk away from Quatre without her. If keeping a wife that didn't love him or their child was the only way to have his daughter, then Quatre would do so. 


	2. Chapter 2

****

Chapter Two

The music, the din of hundreds of conversations, the heat of the enclosed ballroom all served to remind Dorothy why she hated these functions. And that was without considering how damn uncomfortable her elegant form-fitting black beaded gown was or how her feet were already aching from the high-heeled sandals that had virtually no support. She would be hobbling for days after this charity ball. Her head hurt from what seemed like hundreds of hairpins that kept her hair swept up; her ears were weighted down with dangling diamond earrings. Dorothy had made a substantial contribution to the fund, an amount that made some people blink with surprise given that she was a public employee. But she was a public employee with a rather large inheritance and no one to share it with so she might as well give it to those in need.

In need herself, she glanced around looking for a waiter or Randolph who had gone in search of refreshment. Neither could be found, but she did see someone arrive at that moment that caused a stir and made her brows draw together.

"I thought you said she wasn't coming."

Dorothy turned to see that Randolph had come up behind her carrying two glasses of wine. Taking one from him, she didn't answer until she had taken care of her thirst. "Apparently her migraine is gone." She looked at Randolph. Wearing an impeccably tailored tuxedo, he certainly was an attractive man. A few years older than her, he had dark hair that was now slicked back, hazel eyes and chiseled features that made her think of Greek gods. The rest of him was equally chiseled, drawing the gazes of more than one woman. 

"Shall we leave?" she asked him. Dorothy had a sudden urge to curl up on a sofa with him.

"Leave?" he chuckled. "Whatever for? You are all decked out, and quite nicely I might add." His warm gaze rested on her bare shoulders before sliding lower. Dorothy couldn't remember the last time he had looked at her like that. His eyes returned to hers. "However tempting your suggestion is, my dear, I have seen several of my clients and hope to get a chance to speak to them before the night is over. It will save me the trouble of setting up appointments."

Dorothy remembered why their relationship didn't seem to be going anywhere. "I'm glad you can get some work done. I think I will get an explanation from Relena, if you will excuse me."

Randolph was already headed in the direction of one of his clients before Dorothy made her way toward Relena Darlian. The Vice Foreign Minister was dressed in pink and white chiffon trimmed in silver, and her somber escort wore black. He saw her approach first, and Dorothy raised a brow as her gaze met the Prussian blue eyes of Heero Yuy.

"I talked her into attending," he explained, his voice a deep monotone. "This charity event is for a good cause."

Relena turned her head at the sound of his voice. "Oh, Dorothy, you did come! I was so sure that you would refuse that I allowed Heero to convince me to attend."

"Whatever the reason," said Dorothy, "it is good for the image of the Earth Sphere United Nation that you made an appearance, and a lot of money has been raised."

"Soon to be more," remarked Heero with a nod toward the entrance.

Dorothy turned to see several dark complected men in dark suits enter followed by a couple that was immediately set upon by photographers jostling to shoot the pictures that would appear in society pages the Earth Sphere United Nations over. Quatre Raberba Winner stood at the top of the wide staircase for a moment allowing the photographers their fill, barely flinching at the bright lights from their flashbulbs, as his beautiful, petite wife clung to his arm. Dorothy couldn't take her eyes from Quatre's face, which seemed so different and yet the same as that last day she had been with him in Barbados. Even though he stood across a crowded ballroom from her, Dorothy lost the ability to breathe for a moment as she stared at him.

"I haven't seen Quatre in years," commented Relena, snapping Dorothy out of her daze. "He looks so different."

"He has a lot of responsibility weighing him down," Heero told her. "The political situation on L4 has put a lot of pressure on his business."

"You seem very knowledgeable," commented Dorothy. She had little doubt that Heero had spent a great deal of his time lately on the colony.

Heero glanced at her but he didn't say anything.

"Let's go say hello to him," suggested Relena.

There were enough people at the ball so that Dorothy could easily avoid meeting Quatre, so she slipped away from Heero and Relena and went in search of Randolph. She found him deep in discussion with an older man, and he barely glanced at her as he continued talking about his investment portfolio. A waiter paused by them and Dorothy replaced her empty glass of wine with another.

"I see that Quatre Winner has arrived."

"Yes," remarked Randolph. "I have directed several investors to his enterprises, all sure money makers. Hassan Barak has done an excellent job controlling the day to day operations."

"I've heard speculation that Winner will close the operations on L4."

"The amount of money required to protect the Winner interest there is beginning to cut into profits."

Dorothy was getting a headache listening to them. "I need some air," she told Randolph.

Her escort was turning to acknowledge her, but his attention was captured elsewhere. "Is John Addison speaking to Hassan Barak? Perhaps I can get an introduction. I'd like to hear his comments about the problems on L4 and the possibility of closing the Winner operations there."

Dorothy watched in bemusement as Randolph walked away from her. He joined another man standing with the tall, dark older man that Dorothy recognized as Hassan Barak. As Randolph shook hands with the Arab financier, Dorothy studied him and ultimately decided there was something about the man that she did not like, having formed that opinion years ago in Barbados when he informed her of Quatre's departure form the island. A moment passed and just as she realized that she was staring, he looked in her direction and their eyes met. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Turning on her heel, she started to walk away, but she paused when the orchestra began to play, and she hadn't gotten a step away before Randolph was at her side. "I'm sorry, Dorothy," he murmured as he slipped an arm around her waist. "I guess I got a little carried away." 

She forced a smile to her lips. "I understand." Dorothy wished she didn't understand that to Randolph, business would always be more important. That was what she liked about him, wasn't it? No involvement, no broken heart.

"Why don't we dance?" he suggested, and without waiting for her response, he swept her onto the dance floor. 

_The sticky, humid heat was almost unbearable. Quatre had tossed off his dinner jacket and rolled up his sleeves, but Dorothy was stuck wearing a long sleeved silk blouse that had been perfect at the air-conditioned restaurant she had planned to eat at. She was regretting already leaving that comfort behind to come to this open-air restaurant. The drinks were quite good, as evidenced by several tiny umbrellas lying on the table along with the bones of the barbecued ribs Quatre had finished off. Dorothy was starting to think she was in the middle of a macabre nightmare when the calypso music started._

"Why don't we dance?" suggested Quatre as couples moved onto the area cleared for that purpose.

Dorothy watched the couples swaying together for a moment to the rhythms of steel drums and maracas, but before she answered Quatre, she drained the glass of the rum fortified drink and feeling bolstered herself, she rose to her feet although her knees felt a little wobbly. Quatre was grinning as he took her hand to steady her, then pull her out to dance. Dorothy had never danced to such music before and found it difficult to match her movements to the tempo. But the combination of Quatre's patience and the effects of the rum helped her find a natural rhythm that had her dancing in such a way that she was sure would have her Dermail ancestors spinning in their graves. 

At first Quatre seemed surprised by her sudden exuberance, but he quickly took advantage of her lack of inhibition to touch dance a little too close with movements that should have made her blush. When the music changed to a slower beat, Dorothy tried to return to their table, but Quatre caught her against him, and she danced with her body pressed against his.

"I've thought about you, Miss Dorothy," he murmured in her ear. "After finding into you here, I'm beginning to believe in fate."

"Why would you think about me?" she asked, her words a little slurred.

"You might not believe this, but I've only been run through by an epee only once in my life."

Dorothy looked up at his face to see that a lazy half-smile curved his lips. "Are you expecting me to apologize?"

"You did what you believed you had to," he said with a shrug.

"I did what I wanted," she corrected him.

"You're a tough woman, Dorothy Catalonia."

"I was," she murmured as she laid her head against his shoulder. She liked swaying with his body to the music in what the headmistress of her school would call an improper dance. She regretted the song coming to an end because Quatre stepped away, and putting his hand on the small of her back, he lead her back to their table. Her drink had been replaced by another, and while Quatre drank club soda, she half-emptied her glass. 

"How long will you be in Barbados?" asked Quatre casually.

"I am taking a flight tomorrow," she said. "And you?"

"I have meetings arranged for most of the week."

Dorothy stared at her drink for a moment, then looked at his face. He was silently watching her. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

"I might enjoy it more if I had such pleasant company every evening. My business associates don't dance as well as you."

Dorothy couldn't stop the laughter as she imagined him dancing with dour-faced businessmen.

"Why don't you stay a few more days?" he suggested, leaning toward her. 

"I can't," she lied. "I have obligations to return to. I've already wasted too much time here. Besides, my room at the hotel has been booked already. I have to leave by noon."

Quatre chuckled. "That isn't a problem, Miss Dorothy. I have a place on the beach with more than enough room for another occupant."

Dorothy stared at him incredulously. "That...that wouldn't be proper."

"Why do you care what is proper?" His blond brow arched, the tone of his voice was challenging. "If you are worried about your reputation, then rest assured that my men would never betray my confidence, or yours if I so ordered."

"I can't," she repeated although she was seriously considering his offer. Dorothy didn't want to return to her lonely home, but she couldn't imagine sharing a beachfront bungalow with Quatre Winner. 

He took her hand and as he raised it to his lips, his blue eyes met hers. "You will."

The evening dragged on with the usual ennui for Quatre who wished he could have handed over the check and left to spend the evening with Jamila. He thought about her delight when he swung her around in a dance as he waited for Sadirah to finish dressing, but that delight had faded when her mother entered the room and flashed them a disapproving frown.

"You'll wrinkle your tuxedo," she had pointed out to Quatre before turning her attention to her daughter. "Jamila, you should go to your bed."

Jamila went to her mother for a goodnight kiss, but Sadirah stepped back. "You mustn't smudge my makeup."

Although she tried not to show her hurt, Quatre knew Jamila felt her mother's rejection. "You are very beautiful tonight, mama."

Jamila hadn't been lying. The crimson silk gown she wore brought out Sadirah's incredible beauty. Her dark hair was pinned up except for a few curls that strategically escaped to spill onto her bare shoulders. Around her slender neck she wore a gold filigree necklace with rubies and diamonds, and long earrings from the set dangled from her ears. As usual she would leave her throngs of admirers breathless.

Sadirah nodded regally. "Run along to bed now."

Quatre caught Jamila before she left the room and he kissed her soundly, whispering in her ear, "I'll tell you all about it later."

She was giggling as she left.

"You shouldn't spoil her," commented Sadirah as she drew on the long gloves matching her gown. "You will make it very difficult for her to adjust when it is time for her to go away to school."

Thinking about the ensuing argument he had with his wife on the way to the ball about Jamila's education made Quatre miss a step in the dance, prompting him to apologize to the wealthy matron he had felt compelled to dance with after discussing political matters with her husband. When the music came to an end, he looked around the room, noting the location of Relena Darlian who had greeted him earlier before she had been drawn away by what might be termed as work. Heero Yuy hadn't said much, and Quatre wondered if he and Relena had become an official couple until he noted that Heero was discreetly hiding an earpiece receiver. Relena probably didn't even know that Heero was not actually her date, but her bodyguard for the evening. 

Finding Sadirah in the crowded ballroom wasn't too difficult. Wherever there was a gathering of fawning men, he would find his wife. Now he saw her being delivered by her latest dance partner to her father's side. As would be expected, Hassan Barak was talking business with several men Quatre recognized. He introduced his daughter to a man Quatre didn't know, a tall man, dark, not any more or less good-looking than any other man that showed an interest in her. Sadirah extended her hand to him, and Quatre imagined her looking deeply into the unsuspecting fool's eyes, making him her latest conquest. Quatre wasn't affected like other men. He knew her too well. 

He hadn't enjoyed the afternoon with his wife. Sadirah's attempt to seduce him had been sadly pathetic when she so obviously did not want to be with him. Quatre didn't want to have sex with her either, but he took malicious pleasure in taking what she offered. Sadirah pretended to enjoy, and he pretended he was with another woman, and when the obligatory conjugal episode came to an end, she brought up the troubles on L4. Quatre had almost laughed aloud that her naiveté would lead her to believe that she pleased him so well that he would do as she and her father wished. Even now Quatre was watching her flirt with the stranger, almost praying she would find him attractive enough to break her marriage vow. The only way Quatre could keep Jamila was if Sadirah committed adultery. Unfortunately, her aversion to sex was probably going to make that unlikely. 

After returning his dance partner to her husband, he politely excused himself and moved through the people, speaking briefly to those that hailed him. He was relieved to finally reach the door to the terrace, and equally relieved that it appeared to be deserted as the orchestra struck up a slower paced song.

Quatre went to the edge of the balcony and looked over the lights of the city as he reached into his pocket to draw out a cigar. The lighter appeared from no where, and Quatre turned his head to see Rashid waiting patiently. After breathing smoke that calmed his nerves, he remarked to Rashid, "You aren't my servant."

"I'll do whatever needs to be done, master," he told Quatre cryptically. They both knew what he spoke of.

"I'm not that desperate," remarked Quatre with a chuckle, but he allowed himself to visualize Rashid's big hands around Sadirah's neck.

"I heard your discussion on the way here."

Quatre didn't respond as he smoked his cigar in silence. Sadirah wanted to send Jamila to an exclusive primary school on Earth, had even made arrangements for her to begin within the week. Although Quatre knew that some day his daughter would probably attend a boarding school, he wasn't ready to give her up. Jamila was too young, too fragile to be left alone with strangers, many days distant from her family. Sadirah wouldn't listen to his arguments, had told Quatre that her father thought it was a good idea. Barak thought it would bring some the stability of a routine to Jamila's life, and she would be safer on Earth, far from the troubles on L4. Quatre knew he would have to fight both his wife and his father-in-law on this issue, but he would not give in to them.

Aware that Rashid had stepped discreetly away, Quatre turned to see what had caused him to disappear into the shadows. Stepping through the French doors leading to the terrace was a woman that made his heart pound. Dorothy Catalonia was here? He hadn't seen her all evening, but since there were hundreds of guests, he wasn't surprised. She was every bit as attractive as he remembered, perhaps even more so now as she appeared to have rounded out nicely in the places that mattered.

She didn't glance in his direction as she went to the edge of the terrace where she took a deep breath. Her nose wrinkled, and she turned toward him. Whatever scathing remark she had been about to make about his smoking was never uttered as she stared at him speechlessly.

Quatre drew off his slender cigar one last time before stubbing it out and dropping it in an ashtray.

"So you smoke now?" she asked with an arch to her brow.

"Nice to see you too, Miss Dorothy." He didn't move to her, and she didn't leave her place.

Dorothy turned away to look out over the city. "I needed some air."

"Are you alone?" 

She didn't look at him. "No."

Quatre knew she wasn't married. He remembered reading once that she had been promoted to assistant to the public relations director of the Earth Sphere United Nation. "Are you here on business?"

"I was ordered to attend," she answered.

As she leaned against the balcony railing, Quatre let his eyes rove over her. He couldn't stop the memories of her breathless sighs, her soft moans, her surrender to pleasure she didn't want to acknowledge. The difference between her and Sadirah was like night and day, and Quatre found it painful to stand only a few feet away knowing that he could never have her.

Dorothy turned her head to look at him. He sensed she wanted to say something, but her pride was preventing her. 

"Master," he heard an urgent whisper from the shadows. 

Quatre glanced toward the door and saw that Sadirah was approaching, accompanied by the man he had seen her speaking with earlier. Dorothy turned toward the door, and Quatre saw her become rigid.

"Here you are," said Sadirah with a false note of delight. Quatre could see by the disappointed look on her escort's face that he had been hoping to spend time alone with her, not to lead her straight back to her husband.

Sadirah looked from Quatre to Dorothy. Although they were standing several feet apart, Sadirah looked at Dorothy as if assessing her, and finding her lacking she turned her full attention back to Quatre. 

Her companion seemed to notice Dorothy for the first time since coming onto the terrace. "I didn't realize you had come out here, Dorothy."

"I told you earlier that I needed some air," she remarked dryly.

There was an awkward moment of silence, and Quatre took the opportunity to get a closer look at Sadirah's latest victim. Obviously he was acquainted with Dorothy, so he waited patiently for her to get over her wounded pride from Sadirah's ill-concealed slight to make introductions.

Finally she looked at the man who was a stranger to Quatre. "Allow me to introduce Quatre Raberba Winner." She looked at Quatre, purposely avoiding his gaze. "Randolph Morrison."

Quatre extended his hand to the other man. His grasp was firm, his smile polite. "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Winner. I didn't realize that Dorothy was acquainted with you."

"We briefly attended school together in the Cinq Kingdom, then met again later during the war."

"During your days as a gundam pilot." Randolph Morrison shook his head. "Hard to believe that a man of your station would become involved in those troubles."

Troubles, thought Quatre wryly as he mentally judged Morrison a nitwit not worthy of Dorothy Catalonia. "I fought for what I believed in."

Sadirah discreetly cleared her throat. He glanced at her, then turned back to the other couple, focusing his attention on Dorothy. "I present Sadirah Barak Winner, my wife." Sadirah inclined her head. "My dear, this is Dorothy Catalonia, I believe that she is an assistant to the public relations director of the Earth Sphere United Nation."

Sadirah's head snapped up, she looked closer at Dorothy, and for reasons Quatre couldn't immediately fathom, she moved closer to him. "I am pleased to meet you." Dorothy might not know his wife well enough to judge her mood, but Quatre suspected that she was far from pleased to meet Dorothy. Then he remembered that her father had accompanied him to Barbados, had on that trip, assumed more responsibility than he had previously for the Winner family. Quatre had allowed himself to be distracted by Dorothy, giving Barak the leverage he needed to inveigle himself into the decision-making processes of the Winner fortunes. He must have told Sadirah about his affair with Dorothy and she considered the other woman a threat.

As for Dorothy, she showed no emotion as she looked at his wife. She turned to look at her escort without responding to Sadirah, and Quatre had to suppress a smile. "Randolph, if you do not mind, I would like to leave."

"I'll call for a car," he offered.

Quatre raised his brows slightly. He wasn't going to accompany her? What kind of man treated a woman so callously? "That will not be necessary. I was about to leave myself. I have some early appointments tomorrow." Before he could give Sadirah a chance to protest, he said to her, "I will expect you later with your father."

Dorothy seemed at a loss for words, stuck between not wanting to be alone with him and not wanting to appear churlish before her beau. 

Morrison came to the rescue, at least from Quatre's point of view. "That is a splendid idea." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Quatre. "I would like nothing better than to have lunch some day, and if you are ever in needed of an investment broker, I hope you will consider my office." He took Dorothy's arm. "I'll find your wrap."

She didn't look back at him as she left the terrace with Morrison.

Quatre remained behind with Sadirah, and for a moment she didn't say anything, and when she did, her voice was tight with anger. "I will be informing my father of this."

He raised a brow. "That I have offered a ride to an old friend?"

"Don't play innocent with me, you bastard! I know she was your whore!"

Quatre chuckled. "If I thought you gave a damn, I'd almost think you are jealous."

Sadirah raised her chin. "Do whatever you want to her, but in the end you'll still be my husband or I will make sure you never see Jamila again."

Her skirts swished around his legs as she spun and marched back into the ballroom.

Rashid stepped from the shadows shaking his head. "Master, how have you displeased Allah to be given the fires of hell on Earth?"

Quatre suspected that the fires of hell on Earth would be heating up during his limousine ride with Dorothy Catalonia.


	3. Chapter 3

****

Chapter Three

Dorothy stood rigid with anger as Randolph draped her mink stole around her shoulders. The fact that Randolph had basically ditched her so that he could stay at the ball to weasel more business for his firm did not bother her as much as the fact that he was completely oblivious to her desire to have nothing to do with Quatre Winner. She had never realized that Randolph was deaf, dumb and blind.

He slipped his arm around her and drew her against him. "I will stop by later," he murmured before pressing his lips to hers.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to enjoy the kiss, but when he stepped back, she found it difficult to hide her disappointment. She noticed that Quatre had arrived in the hotel lobby, his faithful friend Rashid a few feet behind. By the look his wife had given her on the terrace when they were introduced, Dorothy was surprised the woman hadn't insisted on accompanying them.

Randolph shook Quatre's hand. "Thank you again for taking Dorothy home for me."

"My pleasure," he responded in such a falsely smooth urbane voice that Dorothy almost made a sound of disgust. She noticed that Rashid slightly raised a brow. Randolph didn't seem to notice as he inclined his head to Dorothy, then left her standing with Quatre. 

She turned around to stare out the glass doors of the hotel, but she was aware when he moved closer to her. She could smell his spicy cologne, the not unpleasant aroma from the cigar he had been smoking, and she shivered under her fur wrap. What had happened in Barbados she could dismiss as foolishness brought on by a fit of depression. Dorothy had been vulnerable and she had come to realize that Quatre had taken advantage of her. But here and now, when she had her life pulled together neatly, she should not be attracted to him.

"The limousine has arrived," he told her as he put his hand on the small of her back to lead her forward.

His touch was too intimate, too reminiscent of days and nights on an exotic island. "Get your hand off me," she hissed, quiet enough so that the doorman did not hear her.

Chuckling, he removed his hand and she walked ahead, and after stepping into the limousine, she tried to settle onto the plush seat so that not too much of her legs were revealed by the slit in her dress, but met with little success. Dorothy made a mental note never to buy a gown from that particular designer when she saw Quatre glance at her legs.

After the door closed and the car moved forward, Quatre said, "My driver will take you to the Dermail Mansion."

"I don't live there," she told him as she reached into her handbag, scribbled her address on the back of her business card, then handed it to Quatre. "The place is like a mausoleum."

"I remember it being quite ostentatious." Quatre picked up the car phone and relayed her address to the driver. "Does your cousin live there?"

Mariemeia Kushrenada was her only living relative, but Dorothy did not see her often. "No, she prefers her father's estate. The Dermail inheritance was left to me." She didn't add that the circumstances of Mariemeia's birth excluded her from the Dermail fortunes, but her cousin did not seem to mind.

An uneasy silence ensued during which Dorothy wondered what he was thinking. Quatre seemed content to keep his thoughts to himself in the dark limousine while Dorothy fought to control her own. There was much she wanted to say to him, but nothing she ever would. Dorothy had said things to him five years ago that he didn't seem to have any trouble forgetting.

"You are more beautiful than I remember," he finally remarked.

"You've become quite the connoisseur of beautiful women," she responded, unable to keep the acid from her voice. 

Quatre chuckled again. "Are you carrying a weapon, Miss Dorothy?"

"I would have shot you by now if I were," she told him. She looked away to stare out the window, wishing she were anywhere but here. When the evening began she dreaded seeing or speaking to Quatre, but now she was trapped in a dark car alone with him. 

After several moments of silence, Quatre spoke. "How long have you been involved with Mr. Morrison?"

"That is none of your business," she responded.

He sighed. "I was trying to make polite conversation."

"We cannot have a polite conversation," she informed him. 

"I suppose that you are right."

Dorothy closed her eyes to the burning sensation she was feeling behind her lids. She wasn't going to cry. Although it had taken a long time, she had gotten over Quatre Winner.

Suddenly she felt his hand on her shoulder and realized that he had slid closer to her. When she opened her eyes and turned too quickly to look at him, she almost lost her balance and fell into his arms, but Quatre steadied her. "I want to talk to you, Dorothy, but not here, not tonight."

"I have nothing to say to you," she said as she brushed his hand from her shoulder. The contact with his flesh made heat flare up inside her. 

"I have a lot to say to you, questions that need answers." He ran a hand through his hair. "And I owe you some answers."

The limousine pulled to a stop, but Dorothy didn't wait for the driver before throwing open the door and sliding out of the car faster than she thought possible given the weight of her gown. She heard Quatre say her name just before she slammed the door shut and walked to the wrought iron gate before her house. Her hands were shaking so badly that she keyed the security code wrong twice. She didn't look back at the car until she was safely on the other side of the closed gate, and she saw Quatre standing on the sidewalk silently watching her.

Spinning, she walked to her door, calmly opened it, and when it was closed behind her, she leaned against it, then slowly slid to the floor. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she pressed her face against the beaded fabric. She hoped that the abrasive texture would distract her from her tears, but it did not. Her gown would be ruined, but what did she care? She could afford hundreds of such gowns, and she knew she would never wear it again anyway because she would remember this night. She would remember Quatre standing so calmly a few feet away, his wife clinging to him. She had suspected some ulterior motive to his offer to escort her home, but when one of his first questions was about Randolph, she realized he pitied her because she had become involved with a man who cared more about his business than he did her. 

As if Quatre were any different.

When Dorothy was calm enough, she went to her bedroom and removed the gown, tossing it in a heap in the corner of her room, just barely missing the wastebasket. The shoes she would have launched through an open window if she could. She had to be more careful with the jewels because they were family heirlooms. As she unclasped the diamond necklace and laid it in the velvet box that had passed through the hands of many generations of Dermail women, Dorothy wondered if she would have someone to pass them to. 

She thought once that she would.

Dorothy refused to re-open that wound. She still had to work the following day and didn't want to bring on any kind of melancholy. But as she unclasped one of the weighty earrings, she did imagine the daughter she should have had. Blond, blue-eyed, inquisitive, she would be playing with her diamond necklace now, and Dorothy wouldn't scold her as her mother had done when she behaved 'like an ill-bred heathen.' But as Dorothy carefully lay one of the earrings in its place in the box, she acknowledged that however much she wanted that life, it was unlikely to happen if she stayed on her present course. Randolph didn't want children although he had brought up the subject of marriage, which Dorothy had steered him quickly away from. Her future wasn't with Randolph Morrison, yet he made her present comfortable. 

Reaching up for the other earring, Dorothy realized it was gone. She looked around the floor first, and not finding it, she retraced her steps to the door, hoping that it had fallen off during her episode of self-pity. But she didn't see it anywhere in the house. Returning to her room, she pulled on the jeans and sweatshirt she wore when she worked in the garden behind her house, then flipped on a floodlight to light the sidewalk, and she searched carefully, then frantically for the earring. When she didn't find it, she was forced to realize that she had dropped it in Quatre's car. Of all the stupid things to do! She could have gone on forever without ever having to speak to Quatre again, but now she would have to call him. And she had no doubt he would be waiting for her to do so. She had played right into his hands.

As she was coming back into the house, she heard the phone ringing, but she didn't feel like speaking so she let the answering machine take it.

She heard Quatre's voice. "Did you lose something, Miss Dorothy? If you want it back, you can get it from me tomorrow. I saw a playground near your house. Meet me there around ten o'clock." 

Dorothy stared at the phone for a moment, then let out a long sigh. Quatre wasn't going to give her a chance to gracefully forget that he ever existed. He would never take 'no' for an answer.

__

Although the hotel was air-conditioned, Dorothy could still feel the humidity and was glad that she would be returning home. At this time of the year, the Dermail Mansion would be cool and quiet, far different from the constant bustle and sweltering heat here. Thanks to her late night with Quatre Winner, Dorothy was still suffering from a nagging headache from drinking too much and an upset stomach from eating spicy food that shocked her system. Bicarbonate was slowly working its magic on her tortured insides, but her head was still aching. She wore sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat to avoid the bright light of the day, which hurt her eyes.

"I hope you enjoyed your stay, Miss Catalonia," said the desk clerk with a cheery smile that didn't brighten her mood at all.

Dorothy did not return his smile as she signed the bill. All she wanted now was the peace and quiet of a first-class plane trip back home, and to leave behind Barbados to be filed away in her memory as a stupid idea. 

Having called a limousine to take her to the airport over an hour ago, Dorothy was confident that it would be waiting for her outside the hotel. But when she left the building followed by a bellhop carrying her two suitcases, she was perplexed to see that it had not yet arrived. Just as she was considering asking the doorman to call her a taxi, a car pulled to a stop.

Quatre Winner stepped from the convertible red Porsche, pulling off his sunglasses as he walked around the car, pausing to pop the trunk and gesturing to the bellhop to put her bags in his car. In the light of day, she felt acutely embarrassed to have spent the evening swilling rum and rubbing her body against his in dances she would rather forget. Wearing a loose white shirt and khaki pants, he looked comfortable in the heat while she felt as if she were wilting in the linen jacket and skirt that she was wearing. Then again, Dorothy had planned to go from the air-conditioned hotel, to an air-conditioned limousine, to an air-conditioned plane. Standing around in the tropical heat and merciless sun was not part of the plan. 

"What are you planning to do with my bags?" she asked with a raised brow. "I am waiting for my ride to the airport."

"You're not going to the airport."

"I have a plane to catch." She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "My flight leaves in thirty minutes."

Quatre was grinning as he opened the passenger side of his sportscar. "Get in. Don't worry about your flight."

Dorothy looked both ways down the street to see if her limousine would arrive to save her from accepting Quatre's offer of a ride, but seeing only small cars and bicycles on the street, she had no choice if she was going to catch her flight. So she descended the steps and slipped into the car, settling comfortably on the soft leather seats. Dorothy usually did not ride in such small cars, preferring the safety of large, luxury sedans. She wasn't surprised that someone reckless enough to pilot a gundam using the zero system would drive a car designed to flirt with death.

Quatre tipped the bellhop and the doorman enough money to make them grin openly, then joined her in the car. He spun away from the hotel so fast that she was thrown back against the seat. And for several minutes, she couldn't breathe as he weaved through the local traffic, and when he cleared the city limits, he shifted into a higher gear to race on the highway at speeds that made her heart pound.

After a few moments of driving in silence, the wind whipping around them, he glanced over at her. "How are you feeling, Miss Dorothy?"

"I have felt better."

"You must have a nasty hangover today. I thought I would have to carry you back to your room."

Dorothy stiffened. "I do **not** have a hangover." 

"Never had one before?" He chuckled when she didn't qualify his question with a response. Dorothy looked away to watch the scenery speeding by. The airport was five minutes away, probably only thirty seconds at the speed he was driving. If the local authorities didn't stop him and ticket him, it would be a testament to his influence in Barbados.

"It will pass," he told her. 

"What would you know about hangovers?" She looked from the road to him.

At least Quatre was concentrating on driving as he watched the road. "I'm not perfect, Miss Dorothy. I've strayed from the straight and narrow path a few times, but I've managed to get back on again."

The straight and narrow path. Dorothy wondered if such a thing existed. "I have a slight headache." Actually, now a raging headache and a desire to curl up in a ball in some dark, quiet place to sleep. She turned to look at the road in time to see the exit for the airport whiz past them. 

Although it hurt her head to do so, she quickly turned back to him. "You missed the exit!"

"No I didn't," he said calmly.

Dorothy turned around to see the exit sign from the other side of the road. "You missed the exit to the airport! It was back there! You'll have to take the next exit and turn around to go back."

Quatre laughed. "We're not going to the airport."

She clenched her teeth to keep from shouting at him, then had to press her fingers to her temples to try to stop the throbbing pain. "I'm going to miss my flight."

"You are in no condition to fly back today anyway, Miss Dorothy. You don't really want the embarrassment of vomiting into one of those little bags on the plane, do you?"

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, her voice tight with anger and pain.

"Up the coast to my place. You can get some rest there, and when you're feeling better, maybe you'd like to go for a swim. It's pretty hot today and I'm looking forward to getting out of these clothes and into the water."

Dorothy was glad she was wearing sunglasses or he might see how her eyes had widened at the thought of him getting out of his clothes. She had completely lost her mind if she was now imagining Quatre Winner without clothes. 

"I don't have a swimsuit," she told him dully. Dorothy wouldn't admit that she couldn't swim. She had been protected from the necessity of having to learn, and her mother hadn't considered it proper. 

Lowering his sunglasses and raising his brows, Quatre looked at her over the upper edge. "No swimsuit?" One corner of his lips curved in a smile that sent butterflies to flutter wildly in her belly. "You don't really need one. My beach is private."

Her mouth dropped open, and Quatre reached out to put a hand under her chin to push up, closing it and brushing her lower lip with his thumb. A shiver shot down her spine.

"We'll stop at a shop on the way, and you can buy some comfortable clothing. In the meantime, why don't you relax and try to get a little sleep. We won't be there for another hour."

Dorothy wanted to shout at him for presuming to make decisions for her, but she was just too tired and the seat was invitingly relaxing. "I suppose I can get the next flight out," she said, then released a long sigh as she rested her head on headrest of the seat and closed her eyes.

"You won't regret it," she heard Quatre say. "I'll make sure of that."

The day was a little darker than Quatre would have liked, and he hoped the clouds obscuring the sun weren't going to open up and dump rain on him. Looking around the small park, he noted the position of his guards before looking at the sandbox where his daughter was getting filthy as she played with other children. They appeared to be working on some project that consisted of displacing piles of sand from one side of the huge box to another using old discarded plastic ice cream pails and empty cans. At first he thought about rescuing her from the squalid activity, but Quatre had never seen Jamila so happy as she was to be playing with the neighborhood ragamuffins. He was glad he had spirited her away while Sadirah was still sleeping and her nanny was taking a shower. 

"What are you doing here?"

He turned his head toward the sound of the low-toned voice and was mildly surprised to see Heero Yuy. "I might ask the same of you. Do you frequent playgrounds?"

"Only when my superior orders me to keep an eye on the wealthiest target in the solar system."

"Target? Nice choice of words." Heero was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at him, his gaze disapproving.

"You didn't answer my question."

Quatre gestured toward the pack of children. "I brought my daughter to the park."

Heero snorted derisively. "There is a play yard at your hotel. You didn't need to bring her out here." He looked around, then nodded. "At least you understand the necessity of bringing a little protection."

A dozen men armed to the teeth forming a ring around the park, each one devoted to the Winner family could hardly be called 'a little' protection. "I feel safe enough."

Heero came closer to him, frightening away a flock of pigeons that had gathered around the bench where Quatre sat. "I've spent some time on L4 recently. I think you should know that I have heard rumors of a planned attack on you and your family."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know," Quatre told him. "But I trust my people to keep me safe."

"As long as you are here, you can count on the Earth Sphere United Nation to keep you safe as well." Heero looked at the children playing in the sand. "I'd hate to see that little girl crying at your funeral."

Before Quatre could respond, Heero moved away, and Quatre noticed Dorothy approaching. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, her long hair pulled back in a braid that swayed with her purposeful gait. In her hands she was carrying a small bag and Quatre had the uncomfortable feeling that she was hiding a gun. When she passed Heero, she did not even acknowledge him. As she approached, he saw that her face expressionless, aristocratically cool. Quatre wondered if he should have just sent her earring back to her with a messenger, but he couldn't resist the chance to see her alone.

When she reached him, she held out her hand. 

Quatre pulled out the earring from an inside pocket in his jacket and dropped it into her palm. 

Dorothy closed her fingers over it, then turned to leave, but she paused for a moment and reached into the bag. Quatre flinched, his men moved restlessly, one even reaching into his jacket to withdraw a gun, but Dorothy pulled out a handful of birdseed that she scattered on the ground for the pigeons and doves that now descended on the bench en masse. 

Quatre had to put up his hand to ward off the birds and he heard Dorothy laugh, then saw her turn on her heel to walk away. 

"Papa! How did you get the birds to come to you?" Jamila left her new friends to dash to where he sat on the bench, fascinated by the urban fowl.

Quatre noticed that Dorothy had stopped, frozen in her tracks. When she turned back to them, he saw the stricken expression on her face first and wondered about it, but it softened when her gaze rested on his daughter. Not once had he ever seen Sadirah give Jamila anywhere near the affectionate look Dorothy was giving her now. 

"Miss Dorothy brought the birds," he told Jamila, nodding toward the woman who was returning to them. He saw Dorothy carelessly tuck the precious diamond earring in her pocket as if it had no importance. Quatre pulled his daughter on his lap, heedless of the dirt, which covered her from head to toe. Her blond hair was caked with sand and was very tangled. But her cheeks were pink and her blue eyes were sparkling.

Dorothy reached the bench, and she held out the bag she was carrying. "I usually feed the birds after work." Dorothy's cheeks were now a little pink too and Quatre wondered if she was embarrassed by her silly trick. "The children call me the 'bird lady.'"

Quatre suppressed laughter at the thought, but Jamila giggled as she reached in to take a handful of seed to scatter for the birds. "You don't look like a bird lady. You don't have wings."

Dorothy looked at Quatre. "Where are your manners, Mr. Winner? You haven't properly introduced us."

Jamila jumped from his lap and held out her hand to Dorothy. "My name is Jamila bint Quatre Al-Winner. I am pleased to meet you."

Dorothy took her hand to shake. "I am Dorothy Alicia Veronique Catalonia, Duchess Dermail. I am very pleased to meet you, Jamila. " When Dorothy released her hand, she sat on the bench, and Jamila hopped up to sit between her and Quatre. 

Watching silently as Dorothy pointed out the different birds to Jamila, even calling some by a given name, Quatre wondered if he was having a strange hallucination. Jamila looked like a ratty street urchin, and when she wriggled her way onto Dorothy's lap, they looked so much like mother and daughter that Quatre felt an acute pain in his chest. 

Quatre rose from the bench and held out his hand. "We must go now, Jamila." 

Jamila turned to look at him. "Miss Dorothy isn't finished tell me the story of..."

"Your mother will be worried about you," Quatre told her, hating to bring up Sadirah to pull Jamila from Dorothy. But his daughter had formed too quick a rapport with Dorothy, and he worried that she might mention the meeting to her mother. Quatre hadn't come to the park for any reason other than the chance of talking to Dorothy, and realizing that she wouldn't give him the opportunity, he certainly wasn't about to get Jamila involved. 

Jamila slid off Dorothy's lap and she started toward Quatre, dragging her feet. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, "I enjoyed your company, Miss Dorothy."

Dorothy smiled warmly at her. "Anytime you wish to feed the birds, you may give me a call." 

Jamila reached out to take Quatre's hand, but suddenly she jerked it back and began to swipe it on her pants. "My hand is dirty!" She looked at her hand again to see if she had cleaned it, then cried out, "Oh no! I have dirt under my fingernails! Mama will be very angry!" His daughter suddenly seemed to realize the state she was in, and Quatre stood by helplessly watching as she tried to brush the dirt from her pants and her shirt. 

"You can take a bath when we return to the hotel," Quatre finally said as he reached out to her.

But Jamila stepped back, shaking her head vigorously. When she looked up at him, huge tears glistened, then spilled over her lashes to make tracks down her filthy cheeks. "Mama will be very angry! She will hate me!"

Before Quatre could form some response, Dorothy knelt down before her and held out her hands to Jamila. "Look, I have dirt under my fingernails too. I was working in my garden, and I didn't wear gloves. But I know how you feel. My mama used to be very angry with me, too, when I got dirty. My house is close by. If you wish, you can take a bath there, and I can wash your clothing, then you can go back spotless. She'll never know."

Jamila looked from her to Quatre. "Can we go to Miss Dorothy's house? I do not want Mama to hate me."

Quatre looked around the park to see that his men were waiting restlessly.

"Don't worry," Dorothy said wryly, "they can come too. If you want, I can give them some milk and cookies."

Jamila giggled. "They like cookies."

Quatre managed to chuckle although he was feeling embarrassed by his daughter's outburst. "If you are sure we are not imposing..."

"**_You_ **are imposing, Mr. Winner, but your daughter and your men are welcome." Dorothy took Jamila's hand, and as they walked away, Quatre signaled to his men and to follow them. He could easily fantasize that Dorothy was Jamila's mother and that they were returning to their own home after a pleasant morning at the park. And while Jamila splashed in the tub, he would spend some quality time with Dorothy.

Sighing, he acknowledged to himself the futility of such thoughts. He wasn't destined to have domestic tranquillity. The reality of his life was the men guarding him, the nanny that would take care of Jamila, the bitch whose purpose in life was to never forgive him or Jamila for one mistake.


	4. Chapter 4

****

Chapter 4

As Dorothy opened up her house to her unexpected visitors, she noticed that Quatre didn't have much to say, although his daughter commented on everything from the ornate ironwork of her security fence to the designs etched into the leaded glass of her front door. The house was larger than the average house on the block where she lived, but not anywhere near the size of the magnificent Dermail Mansion on the outskirts of the city. She allowed the army of bodyguards to inspect every nook and cranny of the house, and when they were satisfied that their master would be safe, Dorothy took Jamila upstairs to her private bathroom. 

At first the little girl seemed reluctant to remove her soiled clothing and Dorothy thought she might have to solicit Quatre's help, but Jamila finally parted with her pants and shirt as Dorothy turned her attention to filling the large bathtub with water. When she turned to pick up a bottle of rose scented bubble bath, she caught a glimpse of Jamila standing naked nearby waiting to enter the bathtub and almost dropped the bottle. Her heart seemed to stop beating as she looked at the little girl, her gaze drawn to the bruises marring her pale flesh. 

Jamila smiled at her. "I am ready."

"So you are," said Dorothy, then turned back to pour the bath oil into the water. The last thing she wanted to do was alarm the child by demanding answers from her. The fact that she didn't try to hide them told Dorothy that Jamila had come to accept her abuse as a way of life. 

"I smell roses." Jamila came to Dorothy and reached into the water to create bubbles by swirling the water around vigorously. 

She was so close that Dorothy could see that she had past bruises that were turning yellow as well as newer ones on her arms, back and legs that were various shades of purple. On her upper arms, the little girl had the dark imprint of fingers, as if she had been held in a vise-like grip. Dorothy felt anger surge up inside her as she imagined an adult treating a child in such a manner. She had memories of her own of a mother who often lost her patience with Dorothy and who informed her nanny that she need not spare the rod. Dorothy couldn't believe that Quatre would do such a thing to his child, so she was left with the suspicion that either the girl's mother hurt her or more likely, a nanny who used brute force to make her job easier. She wondered if Quatre even knew that someone was abusing his daughter.

To take her mind off the anger she felt, Dorothy concentrated on helping Jamila into the bathtub, and as the little girl splashed about, Dorothy managed to wash the dirt and sand from her hair, then scrub any evidence of her morning spent rubbing shoulders with the common folk. After adding more bubbles to the water, Dorothy left her to splash around with the Jacuzzi jets running while she headed to the laundry room with the soiled clothing. 

Quatre rose and followed her through the kitchen, but she ignored him as she tossed the clothing in the washer with a little soap. When she turned to leave, she found him leaning against the doorframe watching her with a half-smile. "I can hardly believe what I am seeing. Do you not have a maid?"

Dorothy raised a brow. "Don't you think I am capable of taking care of myself."

"You're every bit as capable as I am." 

Despite her annoyance at his intrusion in her life this morning, his comment made her smile. "The maid has the day off," she confessed.

Quatre laughed softly. "You seem to be able to take care of yourself." He paused, then added, "Probably more than I."

Dorothy wondered if there was some hidden meaning to his words. She wasn't going to think about it now. He moved aside when she reached the door, and she paused in the kitchen to find the promised milk and cookies for his men, then left Quatre in charge of distributing them. She returned to her room carrying a towel and helped Jamila from the tub although the girl wanted to stay in the water a little longer. After wrapping her in a large, fluffy towel, she led Jamila to her room where she toweled her off thoroughly. She picked up her hairbrush, and warning Jamila that she might feel a little pain, she set about brushing out the tangles of her long, thick hair. 

Jamila didn't seem to notice her tugging at her hair, and Dorothy imagined that she had probably already been conditioned by the backside of the brush not to notice the pain to her scalp. Jamila chattered away about anything her eyes fell on in Dorothy's room, the curtains, her matching coverlet, and the design in the plush carpet. She made no secret that she adored the elegant statue that made up her bedside lamp. Dorothy suspected she would be getting a closer look at it when she finished brushing her hair as well as the small collection of porcelain figurines of angels and cherubs that Dorothy had been collecting the last few years. 

When she finally finished with the last snarl, Jamila jumped from her lap, and Dorothy cringed as she imagined the girl banging against the table and upsetting the delicate figures. But she made a detour to stop at Dorothy's dressing table where she reached out to run her fingers over the slender black velvet case containing the diamonds she had worn the previous evening. 

Remembering the earring in her pocket, Dorothy dug into her jeans as she crossed the room to where Jamila was still rubbing the surface of the box. "What is in here?" Jamila asked her curiously.

Dorothy snapped open the case and Jamila exclaimed over the sparkling gems before reaching out to touch the necklace. A memory of her own mother snapping the case shut on her fingers made Dorothy cringe, then she lifted the diamond necklace after tossing the earring on its resting place in the case. 

"Would you like to try it on?" asked Dorothy although she already saw the delight in Jamila's blue eyes even before she nodded vigorously.

She had just barely clasped it shut around her neck before Jamila spotted her discarded evening gown and sandals and dashed across the room to rescue it from the trash. "Oh! This is so beautiful! May I put it on?"

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Dorothy nodded and watched Jamila pull on the garment, then holding it up with one hand, she found the sandals and slipped them on. She strutted around the room, pretending to be a lady of high society, and Dorothy could not help but burst into laughter. This is how she imagined life would be with the daughter she never had and probably never would have. Dorothy envied Sadirah Barak.

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Dorothy went to open it. Quatre stood with a small plate of cookies and a cup of milk, his brows raised. "It sounded like you were having fun."

"Look at me, papa!" cried Jamila as she stumbled across the room to him.

Quatre glanced at Dorothy as if he expected her to be angry, then turned his attention back to Jamila. "You are not bothering Miss Dorothy, are you?"

"Of course not," denied Dorothy, shooting Quatre a glare when she saw a worried frown crease Jamila's brow. "Jamila and I were having some fun. No boys allowed." She grabbed the milk and cookies from him, then shut the door, feeling much more comfortable not having Quatre Winner stepping into her bedroom.

She put the snack on the table by the bed, and then told Jamila she could stay dressed up if she promised to eat properly. Jamila hopped on the bed and proceeded to eat her cookies with great care not to drop any crumbs, and seeing that she was tired, Dorothy told her to lie down. 

As Jamila put her head on the pillow, she asked Dorothy to tell her a story. Dorothy knew the standard fare, so she chose to tell her the story of the beauty and the beast. Jamila listened attentively, and when she finished, Jamila said, "The beast was really beautiful inside?"

Dorothy nodded and reached out to stroke Jamila's blond hair. "The moral of the story is that you cannot judge one by his or her looks."

"Do beautiful princesses ever turn into beasts?" asked Jamila, her eyes wide and serious.

Dorothy didn't know how to respond. She suspected she knew the reason for Jamila's question, but she wouldn't put her on the spot by asking her pointed questions about her mother. Dorothy did not know Sadirah Barak, nor had she read anything about her behavior in the tabloids that might give her any reason to suspect the beautiful socialite of having anything to do with Jamila's bruises. However, seeing the seriousness of Jamila's expression, Dorothy decided that no matter how repugnant the situation might be, she would have a discussion with Quatre's wife. 

Jamila let out a long sigh followed by a yawn, then she reached out to touch Dorothy's long braid. "Can you make my hair like yours?" She grabbed a handful of her own long hair, and holding up to Dorothy's, a smile curved her lips as she observed, "Your hair is the same color as mine."

Dorothy smiled as she sifted her fingers through the little girl's hair. "Your hair is much more beautiful than mine."

Her eyes closed and her hands dropped away as she fell asleep.

Carefully so as not to disturb her, Dorothy left the bed then went downstairs. Quatre wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, but when Dorothy went into the laundry room to put Jamila's clothing into the clothes dryer, she detected the faint aroma of his cigar smoke. 

He was standing in the middle of her rose garden, casually smoking a cigar as he examined a particularly large white rose. When he heard her footsteps on the flagstone path, he turned to her.

"Must you smoke?" she asked in annoyance as she took the cigar form his hands and dropped it on the flagstone where she crushed it under her heel. 

"I find it relaxing," he said as he reached into his jacket to withdraw a gold case from which he took another cigar. She made a sound of disgust as he lit it from a matching gold lighter. After blowing out smoke, he told her, "I'm not quite relaxed yet."

She clenched her teeth but didn't say anything.

Quatre seemed content to enjoy his cigar in silence so she went to the gloves and pruning sheers she had discarded earlier to return to the work of trimming her roses. There was a chill in the air, so Dorothy knew she would have to prepare her garden for winter soon if she expected them to survive. 

As she snipped at dead or damaged sections of the bushes, she wondered if she should question Quatre about Jamila's care or if he knew about her bruises. She ran the risk of offending him or worse, alerting him to a problem that might infuriate him and cause some dissension in his household. Jamila obviously loved her mother, and losing her would not help her situation any. No, Dorothy would have to try to take care of this problem discreetly. She certainly knew how torn Jamila felt, how confused she was that someone who should be protecting her was hurting her. 

"Your roses are very lovely," remarked Quatre.

"Working with them relaxes me," she told him without turning around. "At least they don't pollute the air."

He chuckled. "I will try to curb my repulsive habit when I am around you."

Dorothy turned around, setting aside her gardening tools and withdrawing her gloves. "After today, I don't really see that as a problem."

Quatre watched her with an intense blue gaze. "I want to see you again, Dorothy."

She curled her fingers inward so that her nails bit into her palms. The pain made it easier to ignore the wild beating of her heart. "You can't see me again. I have a life here that I don't want disturbed."

"With Randolph Morrison? Don't kid yourself, Dorothy. He's stringing you along so that you will keep your trust fund invested with him. What you don't realize is that he has already embezzled at least a fourth of it and stashed it away in a bank account on L3."

Dorothy stared at him incredulously. That Randolph was cheating her was bad enough, but to hear that Quatre had gone to the trouble of discovering his clandestine activities made anger bubble up. "How dare you meddle in my life!"

"You need someone to watch out for you," he remarked nonchalantly, flicking ashes from his cigar before breathing in more smoke.

"I certainly don't need you to be that person!"

"Who else is going to do it?" He raised a brow, challenging her to come up with an answer.

"You already have a wife and a daughter to look after," she pointed out bitterly. "I wouldn't presume to take any of your time or attention away from them. I hope you realize just how much that little girl needs you, and as for your wife, if you can stand here and try to seduce me, then she deserves better for a husband."

Quatre frowned. "You don't know what you are talking about."

"I don't want to know!" Dorothy glared straight at him. "I may have lost all sense of reason in Barbados, but I am in full control now, Quatre Winner. I know that you deliberately set out to seduce me, and I am ashamed to admit that I fell for all your smooth lines."

He shook his head. "You don't understand..."

"**_You_** don't understand! I don't want to have anything more to do with you! You made me lose any self-respect I had and it has taken a long time to get it back. I have plans for lunch with Randolph, so if you will excuse me, I will be getting ready to go. You may stay as long as Jamila is sleeping, but I will expect you to be gone when I return later."

Dorothy marched past him, and she was relieved that he hadn't reached out to her or said anything more, because she thought she might burst into tears. Her mother would call her a weak fool, her grandfather would mock her, but where Quatre Winner was concerned, she would always have a nagging wound in her heart.

_A warm, salty breeze ruffled her hair, waking Dorothy from her peaceful slumber. Her eyes snapped open when she realized that she was no longer in the car, that she was lying on a bed. Sitting up, she was at least glad that her headache was gone, but she was a little concerned that she didn't know where she was. Looking in the direction from which the breeze blew, she saw that a beach was only a few hundred feet away and the sun had become a huge red and orange ball melting into the ocean. During the time she had been on Barbados, Dorothy hadn't noticed how beautiful the sunset was. So she walked to the open window which actually opened up to a terrace that gave way to the beach. Stepping out onto the terrace, she ran a hand through her hair and let the ocean breeze lift it for a moment, closing her eyes and enjoying the pleasure she felt. _

So she missed her flight and Quatre Winner had spirited her away to parts unknown, for what purpose she still didn't fully comprehend. Dorothy had always been warned to watch out for men who might take advantage of her so that they could get their hands on her fortune. But that hardly fit the description of Quatre Winner. He had enough money to buy her entire inheritance a hundred times over, so he presumably had no interest in her fortune. He couldn't possibly be interested in her as a woman. Dorothy didn't allow herself the luxury of such a fantasy. 

After the sun had set, she returned to the room from which she had come and looked around for her suitcases. Apparently they hadn't been delivered to her room because she did not see either, so she went to the closet, hoping that an efficient maid had hung up her clothing. Instead of her own clothing, however, she found several outfits with loud prints and bright colors, much like the clothing the women of the island wore. The price tags were still hanging on them, and taking one from the closet, she checked the size and noted they would fit her. No doubt Quatre had bought the clothing along with the swimsuit she also saw hanging in the closet. Two piece. Dorothy cringed as she imagined what her mother would say about that. At least it wasn't as revealing as she had seen some women wear, but Dorothy still felt uncomfortable just thinking about the goodly amount of her that would be showing if she put it on.

Dorothy wanted her own clothing, so she left the room to search for a servant to request that they be brought to her room. But after going through several rooms and not finding anyone, she wondered if she were alone until she heard Quatre's voice coming from a room at the end of the hall.

Stepping into the room, she found herself in what appeared to be an office. Quatre was standing with his back to her facing the open window overlooking the sea, some papers in his hand which he seemed to be studying. "The proposal as it is written is not acceptable to me, Hassan. I don't see any provision for the people whose homes are displaced by the resort." Dorothy realized that he was wearing a headset to hear and speak to the man at the other end of the conversation. "I know I should have been at the meeting today, but something came up." 

Quatre missed an important meeting while he had been driving her to this place? "I understand, Hassan, but I told you on the outset that I was coming to Barbados to relax, and now you have me tied up in meetings. I'm going to have to trust you to take care of business for me for a few days."

Turning, he noticed Dorothy standing inside the room. "I'll get back to you later. I'll need a different proposal before I will consider this project." He removed the headset and tossed it on his desk. "I see that you are finally awake."

Dorothy crossed her arms as she looked at him. "You are obviously very busy, Mr. Winner. You need not concern yourself with driving me to the airport tomorrow as I can surely hire a car."

He smiled at her as he came around the desk. "You're not going anywhere tomorrow." She felt her anger building until he continued. "There isn't another flight to Europe for a couple of days so you might as well resign yourself to enjoying my hospitality."

Since she had little choice in the matter she said, "I would prefer that you have my things placed in the room where I am staying. Although I am sure you meant well, I really cannot accept the clothing you purchased for me."

Quatre half-smiled as he now crossed his arms. "You may change your mind. I doubt you brought anything suitable to wear in Barbados."

"What makes you think that?" she asked with a frown. She didn't like the fact that he had guessed how uncomfortable her clothing was. Dorothy had decided on the spur of the moment, upon seeing an advertisement for the island in a magazine she had picked up to page through while waiting to discuss financial matters with the Dermail estate lawyers. She hadn't made any preliminary plans, but threw some clothing in her suitcases, then took the first flight out. Had she done any planning whatsoever, she might not even have done something so foolish as to fly away to a tropical island.

"I doubt you even have any sunscreen to protect that lovely pale skin of yours."

Dorothy felt herself blushing, both from the compliment he had given her and the fact that he was right. "I...I would still rather have my things returned."

"Returned?" Quatre chuckled softly as he leaned against his desk. "Do you think I am some kind of ogre holding your clothing hostage?"

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. 

Quatre met her gaze. "I bought everything you might need, Miss Dorothy." 

Dorothy parted her lips and was about to inform him that he had forgotten some rather personal items, and she noticed that he had arched one of his blond brows as if challenging her to mention them. 

"Why don't you freshen up a bit and I'll meet you on the terrace in about an hour for a late supper." Quatre reached for the report he had been looking at when she came into the room, so Dorothy knew he was anxious to get back to work. She was hungry, so she had no reason to refuse.

After taking a long shower, Dorothy stood before the closet trying to decide what might be suitable to wear. She chose an elegant pale peach sleeveless voile dress that was lined with silk. Dorothy had hoped to feel even remotely comfortable in the dress because of the lining, having nothing to wear beneath it. But the garment clung to her in a rather revealing manner. As she slipped on matching sandals she told herself that if she had any sense, she wouldn't leave her room wearing the shameless outfit.

Quatre was waiting by a table that had been placed on the terrace, and when she stepped through the French door from her room, he came to meet her. He was wearing a loose white shirt and linen dress pants. Having been in the sun more than she on his vacation, he already had a tan that made him too disturbingly attractive for Dorothy's peace of mind.

When he reached her, he took her hand and raised it, and Dorothy caught her breath when his lips brushed her knuckles. "Quite lovely, Miss Dorothy, as I knew you would be when I picked this dress."

Reluctantly she drew her hand away from his warm grasp. "I wish you had consulted me on my island wardrobe."

"But I couldn't bring myself to wake you when I found the shop." Quatre led her to the table, his hand resting comfortably on the small of her back. Dorothy found his touch both intrusive and welcome at the same time, and it gave her disquieting visions of his hand sliding over the sensuous fabric of her dress.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked when they reached the table.

"Planning to get me drunk?" she asked with a raised brow as he splashed some rum in a glass, added a juice, and tossing in a cherry, he handed it to her. 

Quatre poured himself only the juice. "If I had wanted to do what you are implying, Miss Dorothy, I had plenty of opportunity last night when I took you back to your hotel." As he took a sip of his non-alcoholic cocktail he looked at her over the rim of the glass. "Who do you think tucked you in your bed so nice and cozy?"

Dorothy's stomach did a flip and she quickly drank from her glass hoping the smooth drink he had prepared would calm her nerves. She didn't have a response for him so she changed the subject. "You seemed to be busy earlier. Last night you mentioned business."

He pulled out a chair for her. "I don't want to talk about business with you, Miss Dorothy. I was hoping that you could keep me from thinking about it for awhile."

She was helplessly perplexed. "When did you get the idea that I am some sort of escort who can be paid off with a wardrobe and a week-end in a beach house?"

"I'm sorry you've given yourself that impression." He signaled, and Dorothy realized that a waiter was standing by in the shadows. The terrace was lit with several citronella lamps that served to ward off mosquitoes as well as give of a subtle musky lemon scent. The waiter moved forward with a cart of covered dishes.

"I hope you like crab," said Quatre as the waiter put a plate of food before her. Dorothy realized that she hadn't eaten all day, having spent most of it sleeping, and the appetizing meal took her mind off his puzzling behavior.

After several moments of silence as they both concentrated on their meals, Quatre finally spoke. "You are probably wondering why I brought you here."

Dorothy paused in eating, and after taking a drink of her cocktail she said with a shrug, "I'm quite used to being swept away to secluded locations by wealthy young men."

Quatre threw back his blond head in laughter, and his eyes were twinkling with merriment when he looked at her. "I think I am going to enjoy getting to know you a little better, Dorothy Catalonia."

She was afraid that she was going to enjoy getting to know him a little better, too.

When Quatre returned to his hotel room with Jamila, he found Sadirah waiting impatiently, the beleaguered nanny wringing her hands fretfully, then crying out and hurrying to hug his daughter when she realized that her charge was safe.

Sadirah stood with her hands on her hips watching the touching reunion, and when Jamila had stopped clinging to the women, she announced, "Atifah, you have been negligent in your duties, the primary one being to protect my daughter. I no longer have need of your services. You will be escorted back to your family on L4."

The other woman looked completely heartbroken, and she turned to look at Quatre for confirmation. He could not undermine Sadirah's authority with her own staff so he said nothing although he thought Sadirah was rather harsh. But Sadirah wasn't firing Atifah because she had been negligent. Rather she had watched the affection between Atifah and Jamila and disapproved. 

Seeing that she wasn't going to get any help from Quatre, Atifah bowed her head and walked out of the room. Jamila looked at him, her eyes watery with tears, then she dashed after the middle-aged nanny.

"Are you satisfied with what you have caused?" asked Sadirah with a lift to her perfectly arched brows. 

"I am satisfied that I was able to give Jamila a pleasant day, but not pleased that Atifah has had to suffer for it." He crossed the room to the telecom where he reviewed messages received while he had been out. There were several from his father-in-law, all concerning a meeting he was supposed to have attended earlier in the afternoon. Glancing at his watch, he knew the meeting was long over. Barak would have handled his end with his usual efficiency; he always did. 

"You could have avoided the necessity of dismissing Atifah by simply informing us of your plans," Sadirah stated. "Now I will have to find another nanny."

Quatre thought of Dorothy and how relaxed and friendly she had been with his daughter. He had been pleasantly surprised that Dorothy could be so nice to a child she had every reason to resent. Had it not been for what happened with Sadirah, Quatre would not have given up on Dorothy. Five years ago, his obligations had called him back to L4, and his invitations for her to join him had been ignored. Apparently what had happened between them on Barbados hadn't touched her the same way it had him. At least she hadn't taken out any of the enmity she felt toward him on his daughter. She had even dressed Jamila before leaving for her afternoon with Randolph Morrison.

"I have plans for the evening," Sadirah informed him. "My father and I have been invited to a dinner party given by some investment brokers."

"Was I included in those plans?" asked Quatre with a raised brow.

"This is a project of my father's," she said. "We didn't think you would be interested."

She was probably right. Hassan Barak didn't think twice about entering into deals that might be potentially harmful to some segment of society. His backing of the current regime on L4 was one of those projects although he claimed not to know that the new president was going to impose taxes that were crippling on the poorer classes. The man behaved like a despot and had an army to back him. If Quatre could move his business interests away from L4, he would do so, but he would have to do it at the cost of lost jobs of people who needed them. Many underprivileged people of the colony already viewed him as a supporter of Mahmad al-Jazar because he had not opposed his rise to power, but Quatre didn't want to become involved in political problems. That left him with uneasy neutrality between the dictator and the people he oppressed with neither side trusting him and both sides coveting his fortune.

A knock at her door drew his attention and Quatre watched as a maid opened it, spoke to someone, then crossed the room to Sadirah to hand her an envelope. Her brows were raised as she carefully opened it and Quatre could see that she had received some type of invitation.

"I have been invited to a luncheon at the home of the Deputy Foreign Minister," she told Quatre. He could see that Sadirah was proud to be included in such a function. "I will have to shop for something suitable to wear. Will you send a message to Rashid to accompany me?"

Without waiting for his answer, Sadirah ordered the maid to find her things and the young woman hurried to bring her coat and handbag. Quatre thought she was going to leave without acknowledging him, but she paused at the door to look at him. "I won't be returning until later. I will be with my father."

"I hope you enjoy yourself," he remarked without really meaning it.

She grimaced, then walked out.

Quatre sent a text message to Rashid to accompany Sadirah. Although she was a potential target for kidnappers and terrorists, reporters and photographers usually followed her so it was highly unlikely that anyone would be desperate enough to attempt an attack on her.

He was still scanning through the many messages he had received almost an hour later with Atifah emerged from her room down the hall carrying her suitcase. Quatre stood as she entered the room, and for a moment he thought she might say something, but she looked away from him and headed to the door. When she had gone, Quatre left his computer and went to find Jamila.

He found her sitting in the middle of her large bed, engrossed in looking at something in her lap, but when she realized he was in the room, she quickly hid whatever had her attention behind her back.

Although Quatre had come to discuss Atifah's dismissal, he was more interested in what she was hiding from him, but he concentrated on the purpose for his visit. "I know that you have come to like Atifah very much..."

"I am not supposed to like anyone but Mama," Jamila told him. 

"Does that include me?" he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

She shook her head vigorously. 

"I know why Nanny Atifah had to leave." Jamila seemed distracted by whatever she was hiding behind her back. 

Quatre didn't want to invade her privacy, but she had never tried to keep a secret from him before. "I am sure that your mother will find another nanny soon."

Jamila was fidgeting, her eyes downcast.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked her.

For a moment she didn't say anything, then she drew out her hands from behind her back and and brought them together, he saw cupped in them a small, porcelain figure of an angel with flowing blond hair.

Quatre frowned. "Where did you get that?" He could not imagine Sadirah being thoughtful enough to give her daughter such a gift and Atifah certainly could not afford something that appeared to be very expensive.

"I...I took it from Miss Dorothy's room," she confessed, her bottom lip quivering. "I wanted to remember her because I have never had so much fun. She was so very nice, papa."

As Quatre stared at the angel, he ground his teeth together and silently cursed himself for the stupid mistake that had made Sadirah the mother of his daughter and not Dorothy. If he had one iota less of integrity, he would allow Rashid to dispose of his wife.

"Are you angry, papa?" she asked, her voice small and fearful.

He drew Jamila onto his lap and closed her fingers over the angel. "I am not angry, Jamila. We can take the angel back to Miss Dorothy and you may apologize to her."

She seemed to be relieved. "I very much like Miss Dorothy." Then her eyes widened and she became tense in his embrace. "I...I hope Mama does not send her away."

Quatre smiled as he imagined Sadirah trying to take on Dorothy Catalonia. "You don't have to worry about Miss Dorothy." 

__


	5. Chapter 5

****

Chapter 5

"Dorothy, your efficiency is almost frightening."

Dorothy glanced at Relena Darlian after directing both the florists and the caterers. "I am trained for this sort of thing," she reminded her.

"I must admit that I never would have thought of this luncheon benefit. How did you manage to arrange this in just two days?"

Dorothy would never admit to Relena that the true purpose was to find a way to speak privately to Sadirah Barak about her daughter. On the surface, the luncheon with the Deputy Foreign Minister was a benefit to aid the children's hospital, but in reality it was just another excuse for influential women to show off their wealth and get together to talk about their latest self-indulgent activities. When Dorothy suggested the function to her superior, he was delighted and quickly set about getting the wife of the president of the Earth Sphere United Nation to speak at their luncheon. Although the beautiful young wife of Quatre Winner would not usually be invited to attend with the upper crust of the Earth Sphere society, Dorothy included her on the list. 

"I can't help wondering what is up your sleeve," remarked Relena thoughtfully. 

Dorothy was consulting her digital organizer when she answered. "Can't you just accept that I have a genuine concern for the health and welfare of children." She certainly wasn't lying although her concern was centered on one child.

"You seem to have everything under control. I am going to get ready, and I'll meet you in an hour."

After Relena left, Dorothy concentrated on directing the workers who were decorating the banquet hall of the Darlian house. When she was finally satisfied with the work they had done and made arrangements for their payment, she went to a room where she would change into more elegant clothing for the affair. She wasn't quite sure how she would broach the subject of Jamila's bruises, partly because of the delicate nature - Sadirah might be responsible for them - and partly because she didn't exactly know the relationship between Jamila and her mother. From what she had seen and heard, Jamila adored her mother, and so Dorothy could not imagine that Sadirah was mistreating her. 

More than likely, Jamila and her mother had a relationship very similar to the one she had with her own mother; they barely saw each other. Her mother attended the obligatory functions at her boarding school. She brought her home for holidays so that she could parade Dorothy before her relatives, then promptly forgot about her as she went on with the day to day life as a socialite descendant of a very old and very noble family. Dorothy had known, from the moment she could understand, what was expected of her. If her mother was capable of loving her, she never gave any hint. Her father had wanted a son and never made any pretense of having affection for her. Her grandfather gave her grudging respect only after her father had been killed in battle and mother had died in her last attempt to produce a male heir for the Dermail family and she was all that remained. Dorothy still had to prove herself to the old man by becoming as ruthless as he had demanded for the warmongering policies of her family. 

When they had all gone, and there was no more war, Dorothy had found herself adrift, not knowing what direction to take. That was why she had been so susceptible to Quatre Winner's charm. Being with him was like no other experience she ever had. Or ever would again.

While putting the finishing touches on her makeup after dressing in a pale blue and white silk afternoon dress, Dorothy heard an almost imperceptible knock at the door. Looking in the mirror, she saw it open and a man slip in.

"I don't know if I should be surprised or not that you are here." Dorothy turned her attention back to blending some color into her cheeks.

"I go where I am sent."

She picked up a string of pearls. She had received them for her fifteenth birthday, shortly before her mother's death. Dorothy had been touched that her mother had remembered her birthday until she opened the card embossed with the name of the jeweler's shop to see a preprinted impersonal message.

"This kind of thing isn't your style," remarked Heero Yuy in his deep monotone voice. 

Dorothy shrugged. "You must have been discussing this with Relena."

"Relena doesn't know that you invited Quatre Winner to your home yesterday and spent most of the morning in his company. Later, you canceled your lunch engagement with Randolph Morrison."

"Corrections," said Dorothy with a lift to her brows. "I spent most of the morning entertaining Quatre Winner's daughter, and I realized that there were many children who didn't have the privileges that she does. That is an explanation to my sudden desire to help them by throwing this benefit luncheon. I am unsure as to how long the Winners will be staying on Earth, so I had to do it quickly so that I might solicit funds from them."

She could see through the mirror that Heero was still skeptical. For a moment of uncomfortable silence, he processed her explanation, then he said, "You said 'corrections'. Did you not break you lunch date with Morrison?"

"I was going to," she confessed, "but when I called him, he took the opportunity to break it first. Apparently he was meeting with several bankers and investors..."

"Chief among them, Hassan Barak."

"You never cease to amaze me with your ability to discover just about anything about anybody." Dorothy stood and turned to face him. "Then again, that is your specialty, isn't it?"

He raised a brow. "I haven't been able to discover the reason for this inane function."

Dorothy laughed softly. "That bothers you, doesn't it?"

He almost smiled. "Someday I will find time to discover your secrets, Dorothy Catalonia. In the meantime, I am obligated to keep an eye on Hassan Barak and Quatre Winner. Barak financially backed Mahmad al-Jazar's rise to power, and he has been meeting secretly with the man. What I don't know is how much Quatre knows or what his intentions are. He may very well be holding the purse strings for Al-Jazar."

"Quatre is a pacifist," said Dorothy, probably a little too forcefully. "Al-Jazar is a miltary dictator. I think that even a child can draw a logical conclusion."

"Quatre may be a pacifist, but he owns more than one company that produces equipment that could easily be used for war purposes."

"Don't be ridiculous! Quatre Winner would never allow such a thing."

Heero looked her in the eye. "We don't know really know the Quatre Winner that would marry into the family of Hassan Barak. I can tell you this, Dorothy, that if Al-Jazar gets his hands on the Winner fortune, he won't stop at keeping L4 firmly under his heel. He'll spread his influence through the colonies and we'll see war in space that made A.C. 196 look like a Sunday picnic. This time the gundams won't be around to bring it to a swift conclusion that could save a lot of lives."

Before she could respond, Heero ducked out the door. Sighing, she checked her appearance one last time before she left the room and went below to join Relena in welcoming the guests. The usual old matrons had accepted, bringing along the daughters who needed some good press coverage to improve their marriage prospects. Dorothy fended off the women whose sons were not yet married and who saw her fortune and unmarried state as two circumstances that could not coexist. 

The arrival of Sadirah Barak Winner caused a sensation for more than one reason, the foremost being that she was a newcomer to this exclusive set of illustrious self-important women of the Earth Sphere United Nation. That she was striking in a pale yellow silk and chiffon dress of Arabic design that served to accentuate her exotic beauty only made the anxious mothers both glad and envious that she was already married to the wealthiest man in the solar system. Bodyguards accompanied her, and Dorothy recognized the giant, imposing Rashid. Because the former Maganac leader was so devoted to Quatre, the fact that he was personally guarding Sadirah told Dorothy that Quatre was concerned about his wife's safety. Perhaps she had misunderstood Quatre's intentions toward her.

Relena greeted the young woman, then introduced her to dozens of fawning women before she finally came to Dorothy. Dorothy hadn't gotten a good look at Sadirah in the dark garden at the charity ball, so seeing her in the light of day made her stomach churn. She was no longer surprised that Quatre could so easily forget what had happened between them in Barbados. There was not a single flaw in the perfectly proportioned woman. Her dark eyes were like liquid chocolate, her burnished hair shone like polished mahogany and her olive skin had probably never had a blemish. 

"This is Dorothy Catalonia..." Relena began to tell Sadirah.

The young woman interrupted her. "We are acquainted as I was introduced to her at the charity ball." Her voice was accented, her tone controlled although Dorothy sensed she would cut her socially if she thought she could.

"Dorothy arranged this luncheon," Relena told her. "In fact, she insisted that you be included since you and Quatre were on Earth."

Sadirah looked from Relena to Dorothy, and Dorothy saw a brief look in her eyes that she would term as hostile, but her voice did not betray her feelings. "I appreciate your consideration. I have not been to Earth very often since my school days."

"You received your education on Earth?" asked Dorothy politely although she already knew just about as much as she wanted to know of Quatre's wife.

"My father thought I should prepare to be a dutiful wife who could make her husband proud."

"I am sure Quatre is very proud of you," said Relena. She glanced at Dorothy with her brows raised as if expecting her to echo the compliment.

Dorothy could only think of the blond little girl that Sadirah was responsible for and who was being beaten on a regular basis. "I had the opportunity to meet your daughter yesterday when your husband returned a valuable piece of jewelry I dropped in his car."

"Yes, my husband told me about it," said Sadirah, her voice even. "I am glad that he could be of service to you."

The tension growing between Dorothy and Sadirah had become obvious to Relena because she suddenly announced that lunch would be served in the garden. Sadirah gave Dorothy a scathing glance that Relena didn't see, so Dorothy knew the discussion she had planned to have with the woman would not go smoothly.

Dorothy was seated several places away from Sadirah, so she observed her at her leisure. Sadirah was polite if not cool to the women around her, but that was not an unusual affectation among these haughty people. She couldn't find any fault with her manners, and she watched as Sadirah listened to the address delivered by the president's wife with very well feigned interest. When the collection hat was passed around at the conclusion, Dorothy knew there would be a substantial contribution from the Winner family.

When the luncheon had come to an end, some of the women left, others who knew each other well drifted together to talk about their empty lives, and Dorothy took the opportunity to seek out Sadirah. She found her standing alone, looking about anxiously, probably to alert Rashid that she wished to leave.

"Have you had the opportunity to admire the roses in garden?" Dorothy asked her when she came to her side.

Sadirah turned her head, her brow raised. "I have no desire to admire roses, especially with you."

Her voice was so low that Dorothy was sure only she could hear her. "I have no desire to admire Miss Darlian's roses either, but there is something we must discuss."

Sadirah turned her head in a vain attempt to ignore her.

"It is in your best interest to accompany me," Dorothy told her, then turned and headed out the open French doors. 

She didn't have long to wait before Sadirah joined her in the deserted garden. 

Sadirah didn't waste time in voicing her opinion. "You have offended me by insisting that I speak to you when I know of your relationship with my husband."

Dorothy made a sound of disgust. "I have no relationship with your husband. Whatever was between us has been over for a long time, even before he married you. I am involved with another man."

"I am not a fool," hissed Sadirah, her eyes dark with anger. "You invited me here so that you could assess your chances in getting him back, and I hope you realize the futility."

"You couldn't be further from the truth." Dorothy continued before Sadirah could argue. "I wished to speak to you about your daughter."

"My daughter!" Sadirah's eyes widened, and for moment there was a panicked look on her face. "What...what could you possibly..."

As diplomatically as she could, Dorothy explained the events that lead to her discovery of the bruises on Jamila. The play of emotions on her face made it difficult for Dorothy to read her accurately, but her angry distress when she finished echoed what Dorothy felt herself. 

"I had no idea that Atifah was mistreating her!" cried Sadirah, and she reached up to dash away tears from the corner of her eyes. "Fortunately I have already released her from her duties and sent her back to L4. I intend to inform her family of her unacceptable behavior." Sadirah fumbled in her handbag for a handkerchief which she used to dab at her eyes. When her red eyes met Dorothy's, she asked, "Did you discuss this with my husband?"

"No, I did not," Dorothy told her. "I thought I should bring it to your attention first." She had done enough research on the culture of the Arabic settlers on L4 to know that the woman of the household was completely responsible for the children.

Sadirah nodded and smiled gratefully at her. "Quatre would be very angry with me to know that I let such a situation develop. I...I never imagined that anyone would hurt a child as you have described. I confess that I have been very busy the last few months, and so I have not been able to give as much attention to Jamila as I should."

"I am quite sure that your daughter adores you," Dorothy told Sadirah kindly.

When Sadirah reached out to take her hands, Dorothy found them cold and stiff. "I thank you for the kindness you have shown to my family and for opening my eyes." Releasing her, she walked away, leaving Dorothy in the garden.

Dorothy watched as Rashid appeared, stepping away from the shrubbery to follow Quatre's wife. She thought she could rest easy having done what she could to alleviate Jamila's plight. Perhaps now Sadirah would give her daughter the attention she craved.

__

The breeze was still warm blowing off the sea when they finished the meal. Quatre had asked her some questions about what she had been doing since the end of hostilities between the Earth Sphere United Nations and the army built up by Dekim Barton. She hadn't been doing much of anything so the conversation was rather short-lived. His question, while posed with innocent motives, forced her to acknowledge once again that she didn't have a clear direction to her life. She felt uncomfortable knowing that she could continue as she was now for many years into the future, living alone in the Dermail Mansion. Before this trip to Barbados, Dorothy hadn't left the mansion very often and visiting her one afternoon, Relena joked that she was becoming agoraphobic, that she was afraid to leave the ancient home of her ancestors. Dorothy scoffed at that, and perhaps she was trying to prove Relena wrong by coming to Barbados.

Quatre tossed his cloth napkin on the table and stood. Dorothy didn't really want the evening to come to an end, but she knew it was getting late, and she knew she probably wasn't the most enjoyable dinner date he had ever had. 

He walked to her side of the table and pulled out her chair, then slid his hand under her elbow to raise her. "Would you care to dance, Miss Dorothy?"

"You don't seem to be giving me much choice in the matter," she remarked as he led her a few feet away from the table. She wondered where the music was going to come from until he nodded toward the silent servant who waited in the shadows. The sound system was so good that Dorothy could almost swear that an orchestra was playing.

He drew her into his arms and held her at a respectable distance as they swayed to the slow music. Dorothy had danced with men before, but none had made her feel what Quatre was. When he looked into her eyes, she knew he saw something other than gold and properties and power. Quatre had all those things already and didn't need to pursue Dorothy Catalonia for them. His blue gaze made her feel uncomfortable in a decidedly pleasant way. Her lashes fluttered shut when he moved closer to her, and as her pulse began to race, she willed this moment to be imprinted in her memory so that when she was back home and alone, she could call it back to relive.

Sensing, rather than seeing his face approaching hers, she dropped her head back and shivered when his lips brushed her neck, then her chin before settling over her lips. Nameless, faceless young men at school dances had kissed Dorothy before, but she had never felt what she did now as Quatre's lips moved over hers, slowly, lingering, then demanding that she respond. She didn't have much choice in that either and her arms moved up around his neck, pulling him closer. 

When he gently nudged her mouth open, Dorothy felt an excited shock to her senses as his tongue slipped inside to caress her own. This had never happened to her before, and deep inside she knew that if she didn't put a stop to this kiss that was turning into something she couldn't handle, she might have a bigger problem to deal with. But she couldn't stop it and allowed him to make her breathless and mindless until she became dizzy and had to break off the kiss. She had barely gotten some air before he was kissing her again, and this time his hands slid over her body, down her back until he grasped her backside and pulled her against him so intimately that Dorothy's inundated senses were suddenly shocked back to Earth.

Dorothy jerked herself away from him and slapped his cheek.

Quatre stared at her incredulously, his hand reaching up to touch the pink imprint hers had left behind. "Why did you do that?"

She was finding it very difficult to regain her composure. "I would think that should be obvious."

"To you, perhaps." He ran a hand through his hair. "Did I read your signals wrong, Dorothy?"

"Signals?" she repeated numbly. Dorothy felt a strange, crushing feeling in her chest. 

"I admit that I thought your act was rather clever, and quite refreshing since I thought I'd seen everything."

Dorothy stared at him, hardly daring to believe what he was telling her. 

"But I think we can close the curtain on this performance," he continued. "You're a big girl, Dorothy Catalonia. You knew what you were getting into when I picked you up at the restaurant last night."

"Picked me up?" Dorothy suddenly felt like a cheap harlot and a naive fool all at the same time. 

Quatre fell silent as he stared at her, and Dorothy was ashamed to feel a tear roll down her cheek.

He reached out to catch the tear on a finger, and his brows drew together as he silently contemplated it. Then his eyes met hers, and she had to look away from his surprised gaze. 

"I'm sorry, Dorothy," he said softly as he took a step toward her. 

But she backed away, and before he could say anything else, Dorothy turned on her heel and hurried to her room. Quatre followed her, but she closed the French doors and latched them then threw herself on the bed and buried her face in the pillow to muffle her sobs. 

Why did she allow her to think that there was any romance involved in Quatre Winner's actions? Dorothy had been a fool, and she had read in his eyes that he knew exactly how innocently she had perceived his intentions toward her. Quatre could have any woman, and he had settled on her because he was bored and thought she would amuse him. For a while she had, but Quatre expected more than she was prepared to give. 

When there was a knock at the bedroom door, she didn't respond, and after a moment she heard his voice on the other side. "I'll take you back into Bridgetown tomorrow, and I'll have my pilot to fly you back to Europe wherever you want to go."

She didn't answer him, and she sensed that he stood outside her door for a few minutes, but he didn't say anything else. Dorothy was too ashamed to speak to him, and she wasn't sure how she would face him in the morning. Reviewing everything that had happened between them since he ran across her at the restaurant, Dorothy understood how he could have gotten the wrong impression. Dorothy had never been in a situation like this, had never attempted to seduce a man nor shared more than the most innocent of kisses, and those stolen and promptly rewarded with a slap. She was a twenty-year-old woman with the experience of an adolescent. Quatre was probably feeling like a child molester.

Dorothy tossed and turned most of the night, finding it impossible to sleep as she considered her actions the last couple of days if not the last week, beginning from the time she decided to come on this vacation. Allowing herself to be seduced by Quatre Winner she should chalk up to an experience she could not forget too soon. 

When she finally fell asleep, the last thought she had was the memory of Quatre's words. "You're a big girl, Dorothy Catalonia. You knew what you were getting into..."

Morning came too soon, and when Dorothy left her bed, still wearing the dress she had worn the previous evening, she was not surprised to see her two suitcases in the room. She thought she would be glad to have her things back, but when she snapped open a case to find clothing to wear on her trip home, she found herself staring at the contents with no desire to withdraw any of her garments.

She shut the suitcase and went to the closet. Knowing that the decision she was making would change her forever, she pulled out the swimsuit and the floral, wraparound cover-up skirt. When she unlatched the French door and stepped out onto the terrace, her heart was beating so fast that she felt dizzy, but she managed to keep her feet moving toward the table where he was sitting, a newspaper in his hands as he sipped from a teacup.

Hearing her footsteps, he was setting aside the newspaper as he said, "As soon as you are ready to go..." The teacup rattled on the saucer and tipped as his eyes fell on her and he spilled hot tea on his half-open white shirt. 

Dorothy crushed the urge to cross her arms over her chest to hide her bare midriff. "I've decided to stay," she told him, her voice not nearly as confident as she would have liked.

Quatre didn't say anything as he stared at her, but she knew he understood how much this meant to her. Dorothy was afraid that he would reject her, something he should probably do, and she would probably allow him to send her sensibly back to Europe. 

But he reached for a napkin to dab at the spill on his shirt, while his appreciative attention was on her. "It looks as though you are planning to take a swim."

Dorothy sat on the chair across the table from him. She didn't look away from his face. "I don't know how to swim," she confessed to him, then added, feeling the blush heat her cheeks, "there's a lot of things I don't know how to do."

The slow smile he gave her made her insides melt as the rest of her heated up. "We'll have to do something about that, Miss Dorothy."

While Sadirah attended the luncheon, Quatre spent most of the day in business meetings, reviewing operations on Earth and hearing propositions from entrepreneurs looking for financial backers. Sadirah's father made his recommendations and Quatre usually followed his suggestions although in some cases he forestalled going against Barak's counsel by requesting further information. Quatre wanted nothing to do with any company even remotely associated with manufacturing weapons or military supplies. Because Barak had been an associate and friend of his father, Quatre thought he would understand, but Hassan Barak seemed to have forsaken the ideals they used to share in his pursuit of money.

After the last visitor had left his temporary office in the Winner Industrial Complex, Barak remained behind to discuss his decisions, and when they had finished, he turned the discussion to more personal matters.

"My daughter is very pleased that she was included in the charity luncheon," stated Barak. "I would not want her feelings to be hurt if she knew you had something to do with it."

Quatre relaxed against the leather back of his chair as he looked at his father-in-law. "I don't know what you are getting at."

"I have discovered that the luncheon was arranged by the assistant to the public relations director of the Earth Sphere United Nation, Miss Dorothy Catalonia."

Although he knew the point Barak was trying to make, Quatre knew nothing of Dorothy's duties or any motive she might have for arranging the luncheon aside from the most obvious, which was to benefit needy children. "I am sure that Sadirah was invited because she is a wealthy young woman, and because we are on Earth now, it was convenient to introduce her to the society that frequents those kinds of affairs." He turned his attention to a file lying on the desk. He wasn't really interested in studying it, but he hoped Barak would take the hint and leave the matter alone. 

Unfortunately he wasn't satisfied with Quatre's explanation. "My daughter informed me that you accompanied Miss Catalonia to her home the night of the charity ball."

"I returned to the hotel before Sadirah," Quatre pointed out. He didn't like where this discussion was heading. 

"You saw her again on the following day."

"I returned a valuable heirloom to her, an earring which she dropped in the car."

Barak was relentless. "Then it is simply coincidence that Miss Catalonia went out of her way to arrange this luncheon on a moment's notice, specifically insisting that Sadirah attend?"

"Perhaps she did it out of gratitude? What difference does the reason make when Sadirah was happy to be included?" Barak knew more about his past relationship with Dorothy than anyone because he had been in Barbados. When it had concluded badly, Quatre had turned to the only father figure in his life for advice, so he knew how much Quatre cared about Dorothy. Barak was obviously bothered by her reappearance in his life and Quatre wondered if he would actually voice his suspicions about his intentions toward her.

He apparently thought it unwise. Despite the power Barak had gained in the last few years, he still owed it to his son-in-law and he dared not offend him. "I do not wish to see Sadirah hurt."

Quatre found it difficult to echo that sentiment, yet he did want to put Hassan Barak's mind at ease. "If Miss Catalonia insisted on Sadirah's attendance at the luncheon, then it was out of respect for her position and nothing more."

Barak held his gaze for a moment, and Quatre could almost read his thoughts, that Quatre would feel deep regret both personally and financially if he allowed his marriage to Sadirah to crumble. 

He waited a few moments after the other man had left his office before finding and dialing the number for Dorothy's office. Checking his watch he noted that the luncheon was probably over and she might have returned to her office, and if not, he would get her home number from her secretary. 

His call to the Earth Sphere United Nation offices was forwarded to her personal assistant, Tracy James. The woman appeared to be efficient and no-nonsense, like the woman for whom she worked. 

"Ms. James, my name is Quatre Winner and I would like to speak to Miss Catalonia if I might. I know she arranged a luncheon..."

"I will check with Miss Catalonia right away." 

Quatre drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited, and he was rewarded by a prompt response. "At the moment, she is quite busy with a press conference. May I take a message?"

He wasn't used to leaving messages and Quatre was more than a little annoyed. "I would like her to meet me for an early supper..."

The brusque woman interrupted him again. "I know that she has a supper engagement with Mr. Morrison this evening, so she will be unable to meet you."

Quatre almost swore. "I'm sure if you inform her of my invitation..."

"I will tell her that you called." He could tell by her tone that his call would be low on her list of priorities. Before he could find some other way to talk her into leaving a message for her, he found that his call had been disconnected. 

He stared at the telecom phone in disbelief for several moments before he did swear. Quatre hadn't considered the possibility that Dorothy wouldn't be available to see him and Jamila, and he had already told Jamila that she could dine with her. He didn't want to her to suffer the same disappointment that he was at the moment. 

So he found the number for Randolph Morrison's offices and contacted the man with whom Dorothy had plans for the evening. Knowing that Morrison was a lying cheat, Quatre found it difficult to hint to him that he might be interested in investing through him. Morrison told him that although he had plans for the evening with Dorothy, he knew she would not mind if he canceled them. 

Quatre thought his opinion of the man could not sink any lower, but he was wrong. He suggested meeting with the two of them, that he would enjoy catching up with Dorothy during their informal meeting, then Morrison slyly suggested including his wife. Quatre almost relented, thinking that Sadirah had already spent some time with him again when her father took her to a meeting with him. Maybe if she saw the handsome investment broker again, she might be tempted to explore her personal options. Morrison obviously wouldn't be adverse to such a situation. But Quatre wouldn't stoop so low as to arrange the opportunity for his wife to commit adultery. He told Morrison that his wife was busy, but that he would be bringing his daughter. The man had a hard time hiding how repugnant he thought a dinner would be with a four-year-old child in attendance.

With the meeting arranged, Quatre returned to the hotel to find that Rashid had already delivered Sadirah safely to their suite. She was sitting on the sofa reading a magazine while Jamila sat at her feet quietly, her hands clasped in her lap. Quatre knew that meant his daughter had misbehaved in some manner and was being punished, but Jamila hurried to greet him, and he pulled her up to swing around and kiss her plump cheeks. 

Sadirah set aside the magazine. "Go to your room, Jamila."

Jamila slipped her small arms around Quatre's neck. "Must I, papa?"

"Did you misbehave for your mother?" he asked her with raised brows. To Sadirah, any exhibition of exuberance was misbehavior, which was confirmed by her answer. 

"I was very noisy when mama was napping."

Quatre looked over Jamila's head to his wife. "I have made plans to take Jamila out to dinner. Have you hired a nanny who can dress her?"

Sadirah pursed her lovely lips in a rather unattractive straight line, then responded, "I did not have the opportunity and the hotel nanny has left for the evening. I will not be joining you for supper as my father has already made plans, but I will dress Jamila."

Quatre hadn't planned to invite her so he was spared the unpleasant task of excluding her. He set Jamila on the floor, gave Sadirah instructions to have her ready in forty-five minutes, then went outside to smoke before he would prepare for what might be a difficult evening. 

Only a moment passed before Rashid joined him, and he didn't take his eyes off the sunset as he enjoyed his cigar. 

"Sadirah behaved in a manner that would give you no cause to complain," reported Rashid.

"I'm delighted to hear that." Quatre didn't really care how Sadirah comported herself.

"Before she left, she spoke privately with Dorothy Catalonia."

Quatre slid his gaze to Rashid. "Of what did they speak?"

Rashid shifted uncomfortably then proceeded to tell Quatre about the conversation he had heard in the garden. As he listened, Quatre grew rigid with anger, at himself for allowing himself to be so uninvolved with Jamila that he didn't even know someone was hurting her, and at Sadirah for ignoring a situation she must have been aware of. He ground out his cigar, gave Rashid instructions, then went to his room to change for dinner.

Several minutes passed before a knock at the door preceded Sadirah's entrance. As he knotted his tie, he looked at her through the mirror. She met his gaze, her face composed and showing no emotion. "Rashid told me that you wished to speak to me," she said when he did not speak.

"You are responsible for Jamila's welfare," he said through gritted teeth. "Since you have decided that she will have no siblings, I suggest that you keep her safe because she is my only heir."

"I am sorry," she said humbly, and he saw her lower her head.

"About what? That you fail as a mother as much as you fail at being my wife?" He straightened his tie and turned around to face her, but she did not look at him. Another man might think she was so full of remorse that she couldn't face him. Quatre knew better. Sadirah didn't want him to see the contempt he knew she felt. "I'll never forgive you for allowing Atifah to abuse her, and if I ever find a bruise on my daughter, I will see that you have one to match."

He pushed past her without waiting for a response, and he found it difficult to control his emotion when Jamila skipped to him, swinging her fancy skirts, a smile on her face. Quatre knelt and hugged her close for a moment, silently vowing to protect her from anyone who would try to hurt her. 

Jamila wriggled out of his embrace and she showed him the small satin purse that matched her blue and white dress. She held up her gloved hand and whispered behind it, "I have the angel in the bag." Carefully she pulled open the drawstring to show him the pilfered objet d'art. "I didn't let mama see it. She would be angry."

Sadirah did not come out to see them off although Jamila watched for her. Before Quatre entered the elevator with their bodyguards, Quatre stepped away for a moment to speak privately with Rashid while Jamila modeled her elegant dress for the guards who were profuse with their compliments for the little princess.

"I want to speak to Atifah," he told Rashid. "Find her and bring her to my office tomorrow."

Rashid raised a brow. "In what condition?"

Quatre thought about what he had said to Sadirah, but he wouldn't lower himself to punish the woman. In his mind, Sadirah was responsible. "In one piece, my friend. I want to discuss the matter with her."

Rashid nodded then moved away, and Quatre joined his daughter in the elevator. When she smiled up at him and reached up to take his hand, Quatre felt moved to tears, but he managed to control them because he knew Jamila would be upset if she saw him cry.

"I can't wait to see Miss Dorothy," she said without curbing her excitement.

"Neither can I," he responded with a smile and a squeeze to her hand.

__


	6. Chapter 6

****

Chapter 6

After her talk with Sadirah Barak following the luncheon, Dorothy came to the conclusion that she had completely misjudged Quatre. From all appearances, Quatre and his beautiful wife had an ideal marriage, that he was devoted to her. Returning to her office, she tried to prove to herself that he was still a skirt-chasing playboy, but her extensive research provided not one scrap of evidence since his marriage to support her theory. The news agencies had many archived stories about his less than discriminate pursuit of women after he returned to L4 following the conclusion of the wars. Dorothy felt even more foolish now, five years after her trip to Barbados, that she had fallen for the smooth-talking womanizer. His exploits had been publicly catalogued in society pages and scandal sheets across the Earth Sphere United Nation, but she had isolated herself so well that she didn't know or care what had become of the boy she had defeated on the Libra. She had a hard time reconciling the pure-hearted gundam pilot with the man that spent a ridiculous amount of money on loose women and fast cars. Given his complete reversal in behavior after having sown his wild oats, Dorothy had no choice but to conclude that he had fallen in love with the young daughter of his business manager. Such things often happened. Dorothy tried to be glad that he had found happiness.

So with the goal of putting him completely behind her, she had dressed to give Randolph more encouragement, wearing a black haltertop cocktail dress of clinging silk crepe. She put her hair in a French twist, carefully applied her makeup to give herself the most seductive look she could, and when she was satisfied that even Randolph couldn't misunderstand her invitation, she left for the restaurant. Because she planned to have Randolph take her home, she took a taxi to the restaurant, and her first indication that she had succeeded in her efforts was the many times the driver looked at her through the rearview mirror. Dorothy was glad to get out of the car because she was afraid he was going to get into an accident. 

The maitre d' met her at the door. "Miss Catalonia, might I say you look positively stunning this evening."

Dorothy smiled at him as she relinquished her wrap to him. "Thank you, Pierre. Has Mr. Morrison arrived?"

"He is waiting for you." She followed him to the table where Randolph was already seated. Dressed in an elegant black suit, he drew as much attention as she did when he rose to greet her, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. 

"Very lovely, Dorothy," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "What is the occasion?"

She looked into his hazel eyes. "We'll think of something later."

As Randolph relinquished her to her chair, she noticed that the table had been set for four, and she had to school her features to mild surprise and not extreme annoyance as she looked at him. "Are we expecting guests?"

He signaled the waiter and ordered her a glass of Chablis before answering. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to call you to inform you of the change of plans." He raised a brow as his gaze dipped to the cleavage revealed by her dress. "I didn't think you would mind."

She did mind, but she didn't tell him so. Instead, she ordered a martini when the waiter arrived with her wine. Randolph raised a brow, but he didn't comment on it. 

"How was your day?" she asked, then regretted it almost immediately when Randolph launched into his various financial coups. 

The martini couldn't arrive soon enough, and when it did, she made short work of it, ordering another so that it would dull her senses enough not to find him utterly dull. He really was a handsome man, and she knew they made an attractive couple. Maybe that is why she had stayed with him as long as she had. The chemistry between them wasn't there, but that hadn't mattered to her before seeing Quatre Winner again. Why did just a look from his blue eyes make her feel as though she had burst aflame when Randolph could barely light a spark with his kisses and caresses? Considered their humdrum sex-life, something that was almost non-existent that last few months, she wondered why she had gone to the trouble of trying to seduce him this night. 

The answer was standing with the maitre d', and Dorothy choked on her martini as he approached the table, his young daughter beside him dressed in a charming flouncy dress, her gloved hand in his. Randolph stood to greet Quatre Winner, and as they shook hands, Dorothy was horrified to realize that he would be joining them for supper. Jamila fidgeted as she half-hid behind her father, and Dorothy noticed that she seemed to be preoccupied with her drawstring purse.

"You look lovely tonight, Miss Catalonia," Quatre said smoothly, reaching out to take her hand. "I hope you don't mind us intruding on your dinner." His blond brows were raised as if expecting a response. Although wanting to, Dorothy did not glare at Randolph. Quatre did nothing more than grasp her hand warmly, but it was enough to send her pulse racing.

Jamila was tugging on her father's hand other hand.

Quatre glanced at her, then brought her forward. "You remember my daughter, of course."

Dorothy reached out to take her hand to shake. "Of course I do. I am glad that we could get together again."

Jamila curtseyed, then tugged her father's hand again and he leaned down so that she could whisper something to him behind her gloved hand. Although Dorothy was disgusted that her evening was ruined, she thought the exchange between them was sweetly amusing and immediately guessed the reason as she watched Quatre's brows draw together and he seemed perplexed for a moment.

Dorothy rose from the table. "If you will excuse me, I will visit the powder room." She held out her hand to Jamila. "Would you care to join me?"

Quatre's relief was mirrored on Jamila's face. She quickly relinquished his hand and took Dorothy's. As Dorothy lead Jamila to the restroom, she heard Randolph mention the markets to Quatre, so she knew he would soon be bragging about his portfolio to Quatre in an effort to tempt him to invest with him. Too bad for Randolph that Quatre Winner knew more than Randolph would like about his secret portfolio. 

Dorothy helped Jamila take care of her pressing personal needs, but when she was going to take her back to the table, the little girl asked if they could sit in the comfortable lounge in the powder room. Sensing that she wanted to speak privately to her, Dorothy did not refuse. Jamila was such a darling child that she didn't know how anyone could say no to her let alone cause any harm to her.

When she sat on the couch beside her, Jamila began to fumble with the strings of her handbag, and Dorothy could see that she was nervous. To try to put her at ease, Dorothy said, "I spoke to your mother today."

Jamila stopped working at the strings for a moment. Something was bothering her, but she didn't reveal her thoughts.

"Your mother is very nice," Dorothy remarked for lack of anything else to say. She hoped it would put Jamila at ease.

She didn't respond, but she started working at the strings again. Dorothy almost smiled about her determination, but she knew Jamila wouldn't understand and think that she was laughing at her, so she sat patiently waiting.

Finally she opened the bag and reached in. When she withdrew a figurine that Dorothy recognized as one of her own that she hadn't noticed was missing, she saw that tears made Jamila's eyes shine. "I am sorry, Miss Dorothy. I took this from your room without asking you."

Dorothy took the angel figure from her shaking hands. Her heart was so filled with emotion at the moment that she couldn't say anything. This was the first figurine she had purchased at a very low point in her life. No one would ever know how much it meant to her. Yet as she looked at Jamila's teary eyes, she knew the angel might be just as important to her.

She reached out to pat Jamila's hands, which she had clasped in her lap. "I thank you for returning her to me. I am sure that you took very good care of her."

"I was careful so that mama did not see her," Jamila told her seriously.

Dorothy smiled at her. "You were probably right to do so. There has been no harm done, Jamila. I am surprised that I did not know she was missing."

"The angel reminded me of you," Jamila said in earnest. "You are very kind."

"When I first saw this angel, she reminded me of someone dear to me whom I had lost." She reached out to take Jamila's hands and she placed the small figure in them. "But I want you to have her. I will always think of her watching over you."

Overwhelmed, Jamila burst into tears, and Dorothy quickly drew her into her arms to hold her, then wipe her tears away with a linen handkerchief she took from her bag. When Jamila was composed enough, Dorothy washed her face with cool water, combed through her hair, and after seeing the angel safely tucked back in her handbag, she led her back to the table. 

At first Dorothy thought Quatre was studying the menu as they had been gone for a long time, but as she drew nearer, she saw the engraved lettering of Randolph's company on a leather folder. If Randolph didn't see his sardonic smile as he set it aside, he was a bigger fool than Dorothy thought. Quatre didn't have the least interest in investing with him.

Randolph watched with a perplexed frown as Jamila settled on the chair beside her father, then he looked at Dorothy. "What happened to your dress?" he asked abruptly.

Dorothy glanced down and saw that Jamila's tears had stained her dress where she had cradled her against her bosom. She knew it would be ruined, but she shrugged. "A little accident." She noticed that Jamila slouched a little in her chair out of embarrassment. Quatre raised a brow.

"Too bad," remarked Randolph. "That was a lovely dress."

"Indeed," commented Quatre.

Jamila reached up to tug on the sleeve of her father's dark blue suit. "Papa, Miss Dorothy has given me a gift." Dorothy watched as Jamila took out the angel and set it on the table. 

Quatre looked from it to Dorothy. "Are you sure you wish to give this to Jamila?"

"Is that from the collection by your bed?" asked Randolph, indelicately revealing his knowledge of her bedroom. 

Quatre raised a brow. Dorothy gritted her teeth. Did he think she led the life of a nun? Then again, she didn't really like the image he must be getting of her and Randolph together. 

"I can't believe you would give that up," went on the oblivious man. "I thought you cherished that one over the rest."

Dorothy forced a smile to her lips when she looked at Randolph although she was mentally planning the speech that would end their relationship. "Be that as it may, Mr. Morrison, I believe I have proven my regard to Miss Winner by giving it to her."

Randolph opened his mouth to speak again, then closed it as the fact that she had suddenly become formal with him seemed to sink in. An uncomfortable silence descended upon the table that even Jamila did not intrude upon. This would be the moment for Quatre to ease the situation by making a polite comment, but he seemed content to let it draw out.

As if the waiter knew a rescue was in order, he came to the table to make his suggestions. Dorothy moved her chair a little closer to Jamila so that they could study the menu together, and she ended up ordering the same meal for them both. Quatre turned his attention to Randolph, and they discussed business, a discussion that continued well into dessert. Fortunately, Dorothy had Jamila to occupy her attention, and the little girl seemed to be just as grateful that she had someone to talk to. Over the chocolate mousse that they shared, Dorothy heard all the details of Jamila's dolls, their names, family lives, their favorite dresses. Dorothy would prefer to be playing with them than to have to listen to Quatre humor Randolph. She didn't know which man she wanted to kick more: the oaf who didn't know any better or the bastard who toyed with him.

A small orchestra began to play, and Quatre turned away from Randolph as couples began to dance on the area cleared for that purpose. Her heart leapt as he glanced at her, and she didn't think she could remember how to breathe when he stood. But he held out his hand to Jamila. 

"Would you honor me with this dance, Miss Winner?"

Jamila giggled as she took his hand and after he led her to the floor, he pulled her up to ride on his hip as he held her hand and put his arm around her waist. Swaying with her to the music, he spoke words to her that made Jamila smile. Dorothy had to look away as she felt a wave of depressing loss. She could almost pretend that Jamila was their child, and she could watch them proudly now. Anyone watching them could see how much he loved his daughter.

Across the table, Randolph sighed and tossed down his napkin. "Too bad Mrs. Winner was unable to join us. I'm sure he'd much rather be dancing with her."

Dorothy looked at him. "He adores his child. Do you find some fault in that?"

"She is his heir," remarked Randolph as if he were trying to find a reason that anyone would care for a child. "Some day she is going to be even more wealthy than she is now."

"Mr. Morrison, you are an ass." Dorothy picked up her glass of wine and drained it.

"I think you have had too much to drink," he said in a low voice as he leaned toward her.

She leaned toward him. "I haven't had enough to forgive you!"

"Forgive me?" For the first time she saw genuine emotion in his eyes, and it appeared to be anger. "I am not the one flaunting myself in front of a married man!"

"I am not flaunting myself for him! As you recall, I didn't even know he was going to be here!"

As Randolph seemed to come to the realization how badly he had slipped up on the evening, Quatre returned to the table with Jamila. "Miss Catalonia, would you do me the honor of dancing with me."

Randolph started to rise. "She has already consented to dance with me."

"I don't remember saying anything of the kind." Dorothy was so furious that he would presume to make decisions for her that she took Quatre's hand. Randolph glared after them as Quatre led her further into the small crowd of dancing couples so that she momentarily lost sight of Randolph. 

The last thing she wanted was to be in Quatre's arms, but because of Randolph's stupidity and her stubborn pride, here she was, one of his hands resting on her waist, the other holding hers, their bodies only inches apart. For a moment he didn't say anything and Dorothy was rigid as they danced.

Then he remarked, "You used to be a better dancer."

She looked up at his face, almost expecting him to be gloating over what was the apparent disintegration of her relationship with Randolph Morrison. "I doubt Mr. Morrison is in much of a mood to discuss your financial options anymore tonight. For that, I am sorry."

His shoulder lifted in a shrug under her hand. "I didn't really want to see him anyway."

She raised a brow. Could that mean he had wanted to see her? What an absolutely asinine way to get a date, by intruding on one already in progress!

"Jamila has been very upset by what she did, so I called your office to arrange a meeting with you, but your eunuch guard wouldn't let me leave so much as a message."

Dorothy made a note to tell Tracy to inform her of Quatre Winner's calls. Her assistant was very literal and Dorothy had given her list of names to screen calls from and his name was not on it. Why would it be?

"She hung up on me." Quatre sounded offended.

Dorothy smiled. "She is very protective of my time."

"Then she should be commended for doing her job, however, she did let slip that you were dining with Mr. Morrison, and I wrangled an invitation from him."

"You are dastardly clever," she commented. "Then again, I already knew that."

"Dorothy..."

His tone warned her that he was going to move their conversation in an intimate direction, so she cut him off. "I had the opportunity to speak to your wife today. She is very refined and an asset to your home."

Quatre's brows drew together. "I have learned the nature of your discussion with my wife and I am sure you must realize how little an asset I think she is to my home."

Dorothy looked away. Sadirah had seemed quite panicked by the possibility that Quatre would learn of her domestic woes, so she could only conclude that he received his information from Rashid. Did that mean that Rashid was less a bodyguard and more a spy? Dorothy didn't like the feeling of hope that sprang up in her heart, that all was not as idyllic as she thought in the home of Quatre Raberba Winner.

"You need not worry that Jamila will come to any more harm," he told her. "Sadirah has promised to be more diligent in the future."

Dorothy didn't respond, having nothing to say, but she glanced toward the table and saw that Randolph was completely ignoring Jamila. Jamila looked tired as she moved the angel figurine this way and that, studying it now with a more personal interest as it belonged to her. Dorothy wished she could lay her head on Quatre's shoulder and cry the tears she had been holding for four years, to share with him her deepest sorrow. But she couldn't. She would have to live with the results of her mistakes for the rest of her life.

Without her realizing it, he had moved close enough so that their thighs brushed, and when she took a breath, her senses were filled with his subtle cologne and the faint aroma of his cigar. Dorothy closed her eyes and wished she were far from here, basking in the sun.

__

After only half an hour of splashing around in the surf, Dorothy realized how out of shape she had become in the last few years. She wasn't afraid of the water, and learning to swim was easier than she had thought, although she found it quite distracting to find herself in Quatre's arms as he showed her how to swim. Most of the time she was hoping he would kiss her again, but he was concentrating on the task at hand even if she wasn't. 

Tired and aching from the waves battering against her, Dorothy readily agreed when Quatre suggested they get out of the water for a while. The sun was quite merciless, and she knew that she was going to be burned already, but she grabbed the bottle of lotion lying on her towel on the beach and was applying it to her arms when Quatre came to lie on the towel next to hers.

"Not bad for the first time," he said. "I can't believe you've never learned."

Dorothy winced as she worked the lotion into her skin. She was already burned, so this was probably an exercise in futility. "I never had a reason to learn."

"No trips to the beach, no backyard swimming pool?" He took the bottle of lotion she had set aside and began to mimic what she was doing. She felt herself growing warm in a way that had nothing to do with the sun as he spread the lotion over his arms, then his chest. 

When he raised his brows, she realized he was waiting for an answer.

She shook her head, then closed her eyes to put the sunblock on her face. "You are talking about the granddaughter of the Duke Dermail," she reminded him. "I have extensive education in the arts of war." 

"I remember." 

She opened her eyes to see that his hand had moved over a scar and was ashamed to realize that it was from the wound she had given him on the Libra battleship. Dorothy didn't know what to say.

Even if she could think of something, his lazy half-smile made any kind of coherent speech impossible. Her hands dropped into her lap, and she stared down at them.

"Have you ever wondered," he asked, "If the Zero system were responsible for your actions? Such a program is designed to enhance one's natural fighting abilities."

She shrugged. Dorothy didn't want to be reminded of that day because that was the day she discovered her life had lost its purpose. She had felt no joy in defeating Quatre Winner, and his words and those of the one called Trowa Barton made her question the philosophical foundation of her life. Up to that point she reveled in the fact that she had lost her family in acts of war, then suddenly she realized they were dead, gone forever without ever having pointed her in the direction that she should take without them. 

"I wondered what became of you," continued Quatre when she didn't say anything. "When I saw you at the restaurant, I thought that maybe the two of us could put some closure on that unfortunate incident."

His idea of closure obviously consisted in seduction. Looking at him, she saw that his gaze was intense, and a shiver ran down her spine as he watched her, propped on his elbow on the towel. Dorothy suddenly felt very vulnerable in the wet swimsuit, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

Quatre sat up, and grabbing the bottle of lotion he moved behind her. "If I don't put some lotion on your back, you will get a nasty burn."

Her spine straightened, and she flinched nervously when he lifted her hair, stiff from salt-water, and pushed it over her shoulder. Her mind searched frantically for something to talk about although her attention was centered on what he was doing. He had pressed lotion onto his hands, and she heard him rubbing them together. It took all her willpower not to moan when his fingers moved over her shoulders in a circular motion.

"You are tense," he remarked as he applied the lotion across the back of her neck. "I don't suppose you have ever been in the sun, either, Miss Dorothy."

"Whatever for?" she managed to croak out.

Quatre laughed softly, and she felt him move closer to her, the heat of his body even more intense than the rays of the sun beating down on them. "Then I wonder what drew you to Barbados." His fingers moved down her spine, then they were gone and Dorothy couldn't suppress her moan of disappointment.

"I need more lotion," he murmured in her ear. His lips brushed against her neck, and she instinctively laid her head back on his shoulder. His fingers began to work sensual magic on her back, and she did not realize he had unclasped the top of her swimsuit until he was pushing it off her shoulders. She made a half-hearted attempt to hold it to her breasts, but he gently pried it from her fingers and tossed it aside.

"You don't want any tan lines," he told her. 

"You seem to know a lot about what I need and want," she said breathlessly, trying to sound flippant but knowing the words only underscored her vulnerability.

"Not as much as I plan to know," he responded, his low tone sending tingling shivers throughout her. 

He applied his hands to her back again, and this time they roved unimpeded by her top. When he brought her back against his chest, she was unprepared for the flood of liquid heat that surged through her when he reached around her to slide his hands over her belly and up to her breasts. She bit her bottom lip to keep from moaning as he touched her as no one ever had. Quatre was murmuring something in her ear, and she guessed he was speaking Arabic because she couldn't understand a single word, but each syllable caressed her as much as his fingers. One of his hands slid up, over her neck to her chin and he turned her head so that her lips were under his. 

Their eyes met, and Dorothy was struck with an odd sensation of having her life changed forever as she looked into his blue gaze. Then his lashes lowered, and his lips covered hers. She opened her mouth to his kiss, sliding her arm up around his neck to bring him as close as she could. She was drowning in his kiss, in the pleasure of his hands sliding over her body, stroking with expert precision until she didn't care that she made sounds of pleasure in his mouth.

As one hand slid down over her belly, she became rigid with anticipation and fear of the unknown. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her swimsuit bottom, wet and clammy from seawater, and she didn't have the willpower to stop him from peeling the garment down. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized she had arched her hips to help him remove it, but her thoughts were centered on him returning his touch to her once he had tossed it aside.

Quatre broke their kiss to look into her eyes again. "No tan lines," he reminded her softly. His fingers skimmed over her hips before sliding to her inner thigh to gently part her legs. The woman that arched in his arms as he stroked flesh that ached for his touch couldn't be the same one who only a week ago sat in a dark mansion feeling quite content in her loneliness. Quatre was kissing her again as he urged her to pleasures she could not even have imagined, and when the waves released through her, she broke the kiss and heard herself cry his name.

As her exhausted body slowly returned to calm, he held her cradled in his arms. Dorothy could barely keep her eyes open, having had little sleep the previous evening, but she burrowed her face into his neck and murmured, "Not bad for the first time." Drifting off in a peaceful doze she heard him chuckling.

After returning Dorothy to the table, Quatre had little choice but to accept that he had to leave her with her boorish date so that he could take his sleepy daughter home. There was obvious relief on Morrison's face when he announced that he would have to take his leave, but Dorothy didn't show the least emotion. He knew that she had felt something while they were dancing, but she would prudently never admit it. Quatre didn't know how he was going to get any sleep with the memory of her moving with him in his arms. 

Jamila fell asleep on the ride back to the hotel, so he carried her up to the room and took her to her bed himself. She was like a rag doll as he gently removed her clothing to dress her for bed, and he realized that he had never done this with his daughter. Before he slipped her pajamas on, he took note of the bruises that had concerned Dorothy and he was horrified to realize the extent of her abuse. Dorothy had been right to discuss the matter with Sadirah, but he was a little hurt that she hadn't brought it up to him. She must think him a neglectful parent.

As he crushed Jamila in an embrace, she wriggled, then asked sleepily, "Where is my angel?"

Quatre found the angel in her handbag, and she held it close as he tucked her in the bed. She was already alseep when he kissed her forehead and quietly left the room. 

Checking the time, he saw that it was still quite early, so Sadirah had not yet returned from dining with her father. Quatre was glad because his moments with her were increasingly uncomfortable. When they first married, he had tried to be a good husband, but Sadirah seemed incapable of responding to him in any way. Their conversations were stilted, something he attributed to the sheltered upbringing she had in the Barak household. Quatre had even forgotten that she existed before her visit from school. Most men of his culture on L4 would appreciate having a quiet, humble wife. Quatre found it strangely disturbing. As for sex, she was stiff and unyielding despite the efforts he expended to give her pleasure. Sadirah certainly didn't love him, and she apparently didn't love their child either. 

His thoughts ultimately turned to Dorothy, and glancing at the clock, he guessed she and Morrison had left the restaurant by now. He paced anxiously, waiting for Sadirah to return, then dreading it, and as the minutes ticked by, he knew he couldn't stay at the hotel. Informing his guards that he would be going out, he ordered them to stay and watch over Jamila. They were profuse in their objections, but Quatre ignored them as he called up a car dealership, getting the owner's name and personal phone number, then rousing the man from bed and buying a vehicle over the phone. 

As Quatre settled behind the wheel of the quickly delivered Porsche, he acknowledged that wealth did have its privileges. The car dealer didn't complain about receiving a fifty-percent markup for the inconvenience that Quatre had caused him. 

Quatre tried not to drive too fast through the streets, but he did pick up the speed when he reached a stretch of highway and felt pleasure as he flirted with danger at each curve. His father had been angry that Quatre had gone to fight for their ideals, preferring a pure pacifist solution that resulted in his death. Maybe he understood more than Quatre could at the time how the experience would change him. Quatre wanted peace and abhorred war, but a man, or woman for that matter, couldn't go through the experience of living on the edge in battle and not becoming addicted to the thrill of danger. 

Returning to space at the end of the war, Quatre threw himself into rebuilding those colonies affected by the hostilities, hoping that it would fill a void in his life. But he soon became restless, needing the dangerous thrill that was missing. The women came and went, momentarily filling an empty part of him, but despite their beauty and the pleasure they could give, he found them all lacking. The cars and jets he purchased, he discarded like toys when he soon grew bored, just as he did the women. Hassan Barak had tried to steer him off the path of self-destruction by directing his energies to business. For awhile it worked, and Quatre enjoyed however little, making his fortune grow, and Quatre didn't even realize that he didn't like sitting on a mountain of gold by himself until he returned alone from Barbados.

Just thinking about his decision to seduce Dorothy Catalonia made him angrily shift into a higher gear. When he ran into her in Barbados, he thought he had found a companion who could understand what he needed, what he wanted. Instead she turned out to be just as aimless and empty as he was. Quatre certainly didn't think, after everything they had shared, that he was going to end up being used and discarded like the women who had come before her.

The streets started to look vaguely familiar, and Quatre slowed the car as he passed by the Dermail Mansion. The dark and foreboding edifice was locked away behind a tall wrought iron fence, and although the grounds were kept immaculate, Quatre could see that it was deserted. He pulled to a stop before the front gate where a sleepy guard came to tell him that no one was in residence. Quatre asked for directions to Dorothy's house, and although the man was reluctant to give out such information, like her personal assistant, he failed to guard Dorothy's privacy. 

He parked across the street from her house, beneath a tree that would provide him with some cover. A luxury sedan was in front of her house, so he knew that Morrison was with her. There was a light in the downstairs, and he saw Dorothy pass by the wide window, followed by Morrison. They were obviously having a heated discussion. Morrison deserved a beating after they way he had treated Dorothy that evening. When Quatre arrived at the restaurant and saw how she had dressed, he knew that he was intruding in the worst way, but he sadistically didn't give a damn. Morrison didn't seem to care either. Quatre rather enjoyed monopolizing his time so that Dorothy could understand completely that Morrison wasn't good enough for her. Morrison drove home the point by treating Jamila with polite disdain. He would never give Dorothy the children she craved. Quatre didn't want to think about any man giving her children.

When he saw Morrison reach out to grab Dorothy and her shake him off, Quatre stepped out of the car, but a voice from the dark stopped him from crossing the street to go to her rescue.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Quatre turned to see Heero Yuy leaning against the trunk of the tree under which he had parked. "What are you doing here?" When he didn't answer, Quatre sighed. "Do you always spy?"

"I like to call it surveillance."

Although he was worried about Dorothy's safety, he did smile. "I suppose you are going to scold me about leaving my bodyguards behind."

"You have your reasons."

Quatre turned back to watch the drama through the window. Morrison had tried to catch her in an embrace, but she easily broke away. 

"Don't worry about her," said Heero. 

"He might hurt her." Quatre thought he could easily kill Morrison if he did.

"She can take care of herself." Quatre had a vague memory of Trowa Barton saying something similar when they left her behind on the Libra. He had proved to be right.

Quatre glanced at Heero. "You seem pretty sure."

"Five years ago she spent six months undercover for the Preventers in Switzerland, infiltrating the remnants of the Romefeller Foundation and dismantling plans for revolt. Because of her efforts, an attempted assassination of the president was thwarted." Heero chuckled and nodded toward the house across the street. "She can take care of herself."

The door opened and Morrison walked out, nursing an injury to a very private part of his anatomy. The door slammed on his backside, and once he had gone through the iron fence, it clicked shut, effectively locking him out. Quatre moved under the tree near Heero when Morrison paused by his car and faced the house. The downstairs light shut off and a moment later, a light illuminated a room on the second floor. Morrison stared at it for a moment, then climbed into his car and drove away.

Quatre pulled out a cigar and offered one to Heero. He took it and they smoked in companionable silence for several minutes before Heero spoke again. "I'm guessing that's the end of Randolph Morrison. He wasn't her type anyway. But the end of that relationship is going to be as messy as any divorce. He won't want to relinquish his hold on her money, and she won't keep it invested with him."

"He's stealing from her," remarked Quatre. 

"Why should you care?"

Quatre didn't answer.

Heero already seemed to know the answer. "I don't know what is between you two, but I can tell you that it is almost a statistical impossibility for anything to work for the best."

"There isn't anything between us," Quatre denied although he wanted to be in the room on the second floor that was now dark.

"I know you have to say that because of the marriage agreement between you and Hassan Barak's daughter, but you're not talking to the press, Quatre. We've been through too much together for me not to know when you're lying." Heero reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "If you toy with a woman like Dorothy Catalonia, you're going to end up having your heart broken."

Where was that advice five years ago? 


	7. Chapter 7

****

Chapter 7

After attending the morning meeting with the director, Dorothy returned to her own office to review her schedule with Tracy James. Tracy efficiently listed her appointments and informed her of various phone calls that she had received the previous afternoon when she had been busy running a press conference. When she had finished with no mention of the call from Quatre Winner, Dorothy was mildly surprised that even though she had not specified that she be informed of his calls, that Tracy would not consider a call from the tycoon something to tell her about.

Dorothy asked her pointedly about the call, and Tracy shrugged her shoulders. "He seemed very persistent, so I assumed he found some way to contact you."

"I would have appreciated some warning that he was going to intrude on my date," Dorothy told her with a frown. "Since when do you give out information about my personal life?"

Tracy raised a brow. "I didn't really consider Mr. Morrison as part of your personal life."

Dorothy opened her mouth to argue, then realized that Tracy was right. 

"Am I to understand that Mr. Winner showed up at the restaurant?" Tracy seemed to be waiting for some juicy details, but Dorothy disappointed her by explaining the circumstances, that it had more to do with his daughter wanting a chance to speak to her.

"That is really too bad," concluded Tracy as she headed to the door. "Mr. Winner is quite a handsome man."

"He is married," Dorothy reminded her. 

Tracy shrugged. She started to leave but Dorothy detained her with one final order. "Remove Randolph Morrison from the list. I don't really care to hear from him again."

Her assistant was smiling when she shut the door.

Dorothy turned her attention to work, and after writing several press releases, she found her thoughts returning to the evening before. As it turned out, Quatre and Jamila's intrusion probably saved her from making a mistake in trying to kindle a deeper relationship with Randolph. After he had driven her home, she told him that she no longer wanted to see him. He had tried to dissuade her, and when he failed to change her mind, Randolph retaliated with insults and words he thought might hurt her. He told her that she was incapable of love, and her only attraction to him was her connections, that the only thing any man would ever see in her was her money and her name. Dorothy had once thought that true and might have been hurt, but that was in another lifetime.

Once she had finished with her more immediate duties, she left the office and walked the few blocks to the building housing the Preventers, and when she came to the gate, the guard readily let her enter. Dorothy had clearance for all levels of the intelligence agency, so she had no trouble gaining access to the office of the director himself. Bill Morley was in a meeting, but his secretary allowed her to wait in his office, probably believing she was on some type of secret mission.

Dorothy had only one mission in mind as she sat behind his desk, and finding his log-on password taped beneath the keyboard of his computer, she soon had instant access to just about any computer file in existence in the Earth Sphere United Nation. She was deeply engrossed in studying a file when the door opened and she didn't have to look up to see who had entered.

"What are you up to, Dorothy?" asked Heero Yuy after quietly closing the door.

She shrugged but didn't look up from the screen of numbers. "What makes you think that I am up to something?"

"I was doing some research when my terminal was alerted to activity on Bill's computer."

"Are you spying on Bill now?" 

Heero came around the desk, ignoring her question. "Ah, I see. A little on-line banking?"

"I didn't think Randolph was clever enough to bury this much money this deeply," she commented with a sigh. "I grossly underestimated him." It wasn't the first time she had badly judged a man. "What I don't understand is how Quatre Winner could have found out."

Heero raised a brow. "He told you?"

Dorothy looked at him. "He told you?" When had Heero spoken to Quatre?

He seemed to be disconcerted by her question, so he pointed to something on the screen to draw her attention from his slip. "That might explain it."

Dorothy stared at the entry in Randolph Morrison's bank accounts on L3, and saw that a substantial amount of money had moved from his account to another set up in the name of Mahmad Al-Jazar. If Quatre had the same type of arrangement with Al-Jazar, then it was possible he knew of Randolph's secret funding. But Dorothy didn't want to believe that Quatre could be involved in backing a man who extolled and glorified war. 

She glanced at Heero. He was looking at her with an eyebrow raised. Dorothy turned back to the screen, but instead of researching Randolph's activities, she tried to turn up evidence of Quatre's transactions. But the most sophisticated search could not yield even the smallest bank deposit. If she were to go on the information provided by the Earth Sphere United Nation database, she would have to guess that Quatre Raberba Winner was penniless.

"He's got his finances locked away tightly," remarked Heero with grudging respect. "Move over. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve." 

Heero entered streams of encrypted codes, but after all his hard work, he ended up only reaching a complicated entry port to a minor company in the Winner Corporation.

The door opened, startling them both.

"What do you think you are doing?" demanded Bill Morley as he headed toward the desk.

Dorothy quickly returned to the screen containing the financial records of Randolph Morrison as Heero moved away. "Would you believe that my computer doesn't work?" she asked flippantly as she transferred every penny he had squirreled away to the children's fund for the Earth Sphere United Nation. She considered sending him a thank you card from the president for his generous contribution.

Heero was chuckling behind her.

Morley watched her with his brows together as he sat in the chair she vacated. "I will just have to trust you," he said with a sigh.

Dorothy started to leave, but he stopped her. "As long as you are here, there is something I would like to discuss with you."

She turned to look at him. "I have some work to get back to."

"I have already spoken to the PR director. He is willing to give you a lighter workload so that you can do a few things for me."

"A few things?" Dorothy was both intrigued and apprehensive. 

Bill glanced at Heero, silently telling him to leave.

Heero folded his arms over his chest.

"You might as well speak freely in front of him," Dorothy finally said when the silent test of wills had grown tedious. 

Bill grunted. "I suppose he would find out sooner or later anyway." He turned his attention to Dorothy, and for a moment he seemed reluctant to speak, and when he did, he sounded embarrassed. "The president called a meeting this morning to discuss the situation on L4. Intelligence operatives have reported that Al-Jazar has placed an order for titanium alloy mobile suits which are apparently being manufactured on the Winner Resource Satellite X7350."

"That can't be true!" Dorothy could not believe that Quatre would have anything to do with building mobile suits.

"I didn't want to believe it either," Bill told her, "but the reports have been confirmed."

"The last four years a manufacturing facility was built on that satellite," added Heero thoughtfully. "The exact purpose was a closely guarded secret."

"I don't believe that Quatre Winner has knowledge of this enterprise," said Dorothy, but a glance from Heero told her that he thought her remark as ridiculous as she knew it was. 

"I hate to ask this of you, Dorothy, since you have done such a commendable job for the information department of the Earth Sphere United Nation, but we need someone to get close to the Winner family."

"Why do you suggest me?" she demanded defensively.

Bill shifted uncomfortably, and he had to look away to give his reason. "Apparently Winner has a personal interest in you."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Dorothy felt her face heat with a blush, betraying her knowledge of any such interest. "I have shown his daughter a kindness..."

"His daughter wasn't with him when he followed you home last night," interrupted Bill. He glanced at Heero. "Was she?"

Dorothy spun to look at him. "You were spying on me again?"

"I wasn't spying," he grouched. "At least not on you."

She was embarrassed now that Quatre had probably witnessed her quarrel with Randolph, and she was furious that Heero hadn't told her about his clandestine visit. 

"As we have established his personal interest in you..."

"We haven't established that," she pointed out futilely. "Besides, he is married, and what you are suggesting is immoral and may end up hurting a vulnerable little girl."

"A lot of lives may be at stake, Dorothy. We can't worry about the feelings of one little girl."

"I won't do it!" Dorothy couldn't spy on Quatre! 

When Bill didn't respond, she turned on her heel and walked out. Heero was behind her, and for a moment, they didn't speak. She was too angry to have been put in this position. Bill implied that she must seduce Quatre and keep an eye on him, but Dorothy didn't think she could do it. Not without reopening a wound in her heart. 

Heero exited the building with her, but she still didn't look at him. "You're going to do it."

"I don't really have a choice." Stopping, she turned to face him. "You know as well as I do that Quatre Winner would not be backing that madman! He hates war! He wouldn't put the safety of his child in jeopardy by plunging space into war again!"

"Then you will just have to prove it." Without waiting for her response, he drifted away, and she wondered whom he was going to spy on now.

The remainder of the afternoon she spent reassigning some of her duties according to a memo from her supervisor. Tracy seemed perplexed by the changes but didn't say anything, and when the workday came to an end, Dorothy told her that she could leave, that she had just a few things left to do. Her assistant reluctantly left her, and an hour later, Dorothy was headed to the door after an exhausting day when her ringing phone stopped her.

She paused as the answering service took the call, but out of curiosity, she pressed the speaker button to hear the message. 

"I know what you did, you bitch!" She recognized Randolph's voice although he was even angrier than he had been the previous evening when she repulsed his advances. "If you think I'll let you get away with it, you are only deluding yourself!"

He hung up the phone. 

Dorothy shrugged and headed to the door, but the phone rang again. This time she returned to it and picked it up.

"Listen, Randolph, I suggest that if you want to make threatening phone calls, you do so to my private phone. It is really unwise to call the offices of the Earth Sphere United Nation..."

"Am I speaking to Miss Dorothy Catalonia?" Dorothy didn't recognize the heavily accented voice on the other end of the phone.

"You are." She couldn't very well hang up the phone now.

"You do not know me, but Missy Jamila told me your name."

Jamila? "What can I do for you?"

"My name is Atifah bint Abdul Al-Shabat." The name stirred visions of a heavy-handed monster, and Dorothy stiffened.

"I don't know what I can possibly do for you," she said coolly.

"I must speak to you. Missy Jamila said that you are a very kind woman, and I hope that I can trust you."

Something in the desperate tone of her voice stopped Dorothy from hanging up on the woman that had been beating Jamila. "What do you suggest?"

"I will be waiting in the plaza in front of the building where you work." Before Dorothy could ask for more details, the woman ended the call.

Although she didn't know what she would say to Atifah, Dorothy couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Jamila's nanny and to possibly say exactly what she thought of an adult who would mistreat a defenseless child. She grabbed her handbag and left the building, pausing only when the security guard hailed her and informed her that the call from Randolph Morrison had been monitored and forwarded to the proper authorities. Dorothy didn't think Randolph had it in him to physically harm her, but she did find it humorous that the police would probably be paying his office a visit. His clients might think twice about investing with him. 

Stepping out into the plaza, Dorothy looked around the nearly deserted plaza. A fountain with a sculpture symbolizing peace that sprayed water in such a way that formed rainbows in the sunlight, was dormant now as maintenance workers scrubbed the centerpiece. Several benches were placed around the plaza, and during the work day it usually bustled with activity, but now only a few men and women were passing through carrying briefcases. It was eerily quiet.

After a quick scan of the area didn't reveal any woman who might be Jamila's nanny, Dorothy was going to give up and head to her car in the underground parking lot. But she noticed a dark complected woman standing at the edge of the plaza, almost hidden beneath a tree, wringing her hands nervously, so Dorothy guessed that she was Atifah al-Shabat. 

As she walked toward her, Dorothy saw that the woman was looking about nervously. She reached her, but she did not extend her hand. "Are you Atifah?" she asked abruptly.

The woman nodded. She was older than Dorothy expected, and she didn't look the type to abuse a child. In fact, she looked more like a kindly aunt, but Dorothy knew that looks could be deceiving.

"What did you want?"

A car drove by the plaza, and Atifah shrank back against the tree, further into the shadows. "They are looking for me," she explained to Dorothy. 

"Who is looking for you?" Dorothy realized that Atifah was terrified.

Atifah didn't respond at first, then she said, "I heard that Rashid was going to take me to speak to Master Quatre. I had to escape before he could find me."

Dorothy's brows drew together. "I'm sure that all he wants is the same answers that I would like to have. Primarily, how you could lay your hands on Jamila with anything other than gentleness."

To her surprise, tears made the other woman's dark eyes glisten. "You don't understand, Miss Catalonia! There is something I must tell you!"

"What is to understand?" Dorothy didn't get a chance to launch into a full tirade about child-abusers when car wheels screeched. Dorothy swung back around just in time to see a gun pointing out a car window. The shots were fired almost immediately, and Dorothy felt a bullet whiz past her cheek. Had she not moved when she heard the car, it would have lodged in her head. Another bullet tore a chunk out of the tree, and as another round was fired, Dorothy dived for cover behind the tree. 

The man in the car fired a few more rounds, and Dorothy wished she had a gun, but she hadn't carried one since she left the Preventers for a more peaceful line of work. Odd, but she had not once been shot at during her employment at the security agency.

She heard shouts, as the car spun out, and glancing from behind the tree, she saw men with Preventer uniforms emerging onto the plaza. A well-placed bullet made the escaping car careen out of control, and it smashed into parked cars before bursting into flames. 

"Are you all right?" Heero Yuy had found her hiding behind the tree.

Dorothy nodded although her heart was pounding erratically. "I think so."

He tucked his gun away as he knelt on one knee near her, and Dorothy was horrified to realize that Atifah was lying still, her blood soaking the ground around them. Her eyes were open and staring, a bullet hole in her forehead, so she wasn't surprised that Heero shook his head after checking her pulse.

She turned away to be sick, realizing with each heave of her stomach, that the woman had taken the bullet meant for her.

__

When she awoke, Dorothy felt disoriented at first until she realized she was in her room, tucked between cool sheets. The light was low as the afternoon sun had begun to set, and the breeze from the window made the gauzy curtains ripple. She left the bed and headed to the bathroom where she took a long, hot shower, and when she stepped out, she felt relaxed although the memory of her afternoon on the beach with Quatre made her feel very uncomfortable. She didn't know how she was going to face him after her shocking behavior.

She didn't have much time to think about it because when she stepped from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her, she found that Quatre was sitting on the edge of the bed. Dorothy froze and clutched the towel closer to her. What was he going to be expecting from her? Some sense had returned to her with the shower, as well as some pride. He couldn't just use her like a convenient toy. Could he?

He was dressed casually in loose white clothing in the style of his Arabic home colony. The color enhanced his dark tan and she wondered how long he had been on Barbados, how many women he had brought to this beach house.

"I heard the shower," he told her with a half-smile. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion, but I thought I'd ask if you would like to go out to eat. "

"I...I hadn't given it much thought," she stammered nervously. 

"There's a place up the coast," he suggested as he stood, then his eyes moved slowly over her before returning to her face. "But if you would like to stay in..."

"I'd like to eat out," she said quickly. He was moving too fast for her, and Dorothy was beginning to regret her decision to stay with him. The look he was giving her made Dorothy feel like she was not in control, and while part of her seemed to like the feeling, the more rational half of her reminded her to use some caution. 

Quatre moved across the room to her, and while she pretended to be calm, she really wanted to dash for the bathroom where she could hide behind a locked door. But he made no move to touch her as he stopped in front of her. "There's a quaint cafe where we can eat, and then we can head to a dance club in Bridgetown."

"I can be ready in half an hour," she volunteered. 

"Take your time. I'm expecting a business call, so we won't be leaving for another hour." He went to the door where he paused to look back at her. Dorothy met his gaze, and she expected him to say something, but he looked away and walked out. Did the door close a little harder than necessary? Perhaps he was annoyed by her change in attitude.

Ignoring the clothing in her bags, she dressed in a sleeveless floral blouse and skirt, and after braiding her hair and pinning it up, she slipped on sandals then left her room in search of her date. As she suspected, he was standing in his office, talking on a phone as he reviewed information on a computer screen. He was speaking Arabic this time so she didn't understand what he was saying, but by his tone and manner, he wasn't happy about something. Finally annoyed by whatever information he was being given, he snapped his cell phone shut and tossed it on the desk. He rubbed his face with his hands, then ran his fingers through his shaggy blond hair before clasping them behind his head while he stared at his computer.

"Bad news?" she inquired.

He turned to look at her, and for a moment he didn't seem to know why she was there, then he reached out to press a key on the computer and came around the desk to her. "I see that you are ready to go. You look quite lovely, Miss Dorothy."

She felt herself blushing from his compliment. "You didn't answer my question," she reminded him.

Quatre shrugged. "That can wait." He came close, then slipped his arm around her waist and rested his hand on the small of her back. "I'm hungry." The blue fire in his eyes gave Dorothy the uneasy feeling that he wasn't talking about food. 

The cafe wasn't far from the beach house, and everyone who worked there as well as many of the other diners seemed to be acquainted with Quatre already. The atmosphere was relaxed, the food quite good, and instead of probing Dorothy for information about her dreary life, Quatre talked about some of his sisters who were either involved in some aspect of the Winner family enterprises or leading separate lives doing what they wanted. With the resources available to them, many had chosen to follow paths away from business. Dorothy got the impression that he envied them.

After they finished the meal, Dorothy noted that the hour was somewhat late, but Quatre took a road away from the beach house. As he drove too fast, she gritted her teeth, clenched her hands into fists at her side and prayed that he wouldn't kill them. She could almost see the shocked faces of the people that knew her when they discovered that she had been killed in a fiery car crash with Quatre Raberba Winner in Barbados.

"I like that smile," he suddenly said.

Dorothy hadn't realized that she was smiling.

"I'd like to know what you're thinking."

"About dying in a car crash," she told him with a sidelong glance.

"Is that so?" He shifted into a higher gear, and instead of taking the first exit into the city, he continued to drive on the highway, weaving around cars that got in his way. When he looked at Dorothy again, he was smirking as if he knew exactly how terrified she was. 

Finally he pulled the car to a stop at the side of the road, and before she could catch her breath and give thanks that she was still in one piece, he reached across the car and grabbed her arm. Dragging her to him, he covered her mouth with his. She struggled for a moment, then gave in to the heat of his kiss, and when he released her, she pulled him back for more. A car passing them illuminated the car, making her senses return, and as if realizing it, Quatre sat back behind the steering wheel, but he was watching her in the dark car.

"Did you feel that, Miss Dorothy?"

"What?" she asked, still dazed from his kiss. 

"The joy of being alive."

She laughed nervously. "You mean the relief of not being dead?"

Quatre was chuckling as he shifted the car and spun it in a U-turn back on the highway. 

Having spent most of the day reviewing operations for many of the Winner holdings on Earth, Quatre was too tired to go out and was looking forward to having a quiet meal with Jamila. But when he hugged Jamila and told him of his plans to spend the evening with her, she clapped her hands excitedly and told him that her mother had said the same thing. Although he was glad that Sadirah was going to actually spend some time with her daughter, he was highly irritated that he would have to share Jamila with her.

Sadirah dressed elegantly for dinner and insisted on the same from Jamila, and when she saw that Quatre had dressed in a casual shirt and comfortable jeans, she arched one of her fine brows and couldn't hide her annoyance fast enough. The dress she was wearing was similar to the one Dorothy had worn to dine with Morrison, and while Sadirah might be beautiful enough to outshine any woman wearing any garment, Quatre caught himself comparing her unfavorably with Dorothy Catalonia. 

During the meal Jamila chattered about her day with the hotel nanny who had taken her to the play area of the hotel. Quatre found it difficult to concentrate on her when his thoughts kept returning to Dorothy. He had almost called her that afternoon, but he realized it would be a mistake. Even if he did manage to get past her assistant, Dorothy was very likely to reject any suggestion to meet with him. He had questions that needed answers, and they weren't going to get asked unless they could be alone. And Dorothy was going to avoid that situation, probably fearing what might happen if they were alone. 

"It is impolite to dominate the table conversation," he heard Sadirah scold Jamila impatiently.

"Papa isn't listening to me," pouted Jamila.

Quatre's eyes met Sadirah's, and he read her condemnation in the slight flaring of her delicate nostrils and the almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes. He wondered if she practiced showing her emotions without marring her beauty.

He turned his attention to his daughter. "Would you like to visit the zoo with me tomorrow? I hear the zoo in this city has a grizzly bear from North America."

Jamila clapped her hands excitedly.

Sadirah sniffed with disapproval. "Zoos are filthy places filled with pitiable animals."

Jamila glanced from her mother to Quatre, and the smile slowly faded from her face. "Mama is right. I think the animals would prefer to be someplace else." Her face brightened with a smile suddenly and she suggested, "Could we visit Miss Dorothy again? I could play at the park while you visit with her."

A blush darkened Sadirah's cheeks, and she threw down her cloth napkin. "Go to your room, Jamila!"

"I'm not finished eating," complained Jamila, oblivious to her mother's anger.

"I told you to go to your room," Sadirah said through gritted teeth.

Jamila turned her big blue eyes to Quatre, but he did not countermand his wife's order, and so she tearfully left the table.

A moment of silence ensued. Sadirah glared at him from across the table, her fingers resting on the table knife momentarily and he wondered if she thought she could do any damage with it. She finally composed herself enough to speak. "I am glad that you do not interfere with my running of your home."

"That is the one thing which you do well, although there are areas in which you may improve," he remarked as he lifted a glass ice water to drink from. He recalled from a long time ago that a glass of brandy would be useful in this situation. But a glance at Sadirah reminded him how that lesson had turned out.

"I can only promise to be more diligent in Jamila's care."

"I would think that you would be as angry as I am about what happened to her," he commented, his eyes on her beautiful, impassive face. 

She seemed disconcerted, and her eyes glistened before she blinked away any tears. "I have been very busy. Since the moment I became your wife, I have had many obligations that have kept me from being a proper mother."

"A proper mother would show some affection for her child, but you seem to consider her an inconvenience." Quatre set aside his glass of water. "You sent Jamila to her room so that you could speak to me. Say whatever you have to say."

Sadirah took a breath, and when she spoke, her voice was quivering with the emotion she was trying to suppress. "I knew that you would go to that woman, but I could not have imagined that you would involve our child! When that woman told me about the day she showed Jamila kindness, I tried to ignore the fact that you had taken Jamila with you when you saw her."

"There was absolutely nothing but honest intentions in our meeting," he pointed out with annoyance. Sadirah's voice was rising and he hoped Jamila would not hear them arguing.

"You saw her again last night!" blurted his wife breathlessly. 

"The circumstances were similar. Jamila wished to see Miss Catalonia because she needed to speak to her about a delicate issue." Quatre did not like being put on the spot, especially when Sadirah obviously knew that Quatre was shamelessly using Jamila as an excuse to see Dorothy.

"You drove to her house after you left Jamila here alone." Sadirah was both upset and angry. She had reason to be.

"How did you know that?" he asked. 

"My father had lunch with Mr. Morrison today and he told my father that he saw you there!" Sadirah rose to her feet, and she was grasping the edge of the table to balance herself. "Did you sleep with her?"

Quatre stood. "I believe that you gave me carte blanche in that area, my dear, so there is really no need for me to answer that question." He started to leave the room, his objective the balcony where he could have a cigar in peace.

Sadirah cut him off, and she grabbed handfuls of his shirt. "Please don't do this to me, Quatre!" She made no effort to stop her tears now. "I would do anything for you, but please do not shame me this way!"

He could feel her trembling, and he reproached himself for driving Sadirah to this point. After all the chances Sadirah had gotten to turn to other men, she never once showed an interest, and he paid her fidelity back by his blatant desire for another woman. 

Cupping her face with his hands, he tilted her head up, then lowered his so that their lips met. Sadirah slid her hands up and around his neck and pulled herself against him as he kissed her, and while she made the right moves with her body, he felt no response in her. He got the impression that she was prostituting herself to him, and he was disgusted to think that her father may have put her up to it.

Before he could put a stop to the unpleasant kiss, the doorbell rang and she broke off the kiss and turned demurely away as the maid went to answer it. She returned from the foyer of the suite with a surprised look on her face. 

"Officers from the security agency would like to speak to Mr. Winner."

Quatre thought it might be Heero, so he looked at Sadirah and caught her wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked quickly away. "You should get Jamila ready for bed."

Sadirah bowed her head and left the room. When she had gone, Rashid stepped inside from the terrace balcony, and the maid escorted a man and woman wearing Preventer uniforms into the suite. They introduced themselves, but Quatre's mind was racing as he tried to imagine why they would be here to speak to him so he didn't take any note. He glanced at Rashid to see if his giant friend knew, but the man watched them silently with his lips pursed. 

"I'm afraid we have some disturbing news for you, Mr. Winner," started the man.

The woman continued as if on cue. "According to immigration records, you had in your employ a woman by the name of Atifah Al-Shabat."

"My wife and I recently discharged her from her services," Quatre told her. "She was waiting for the next shuttle to L4 so that she could return to her family."

The officers exchanged a look, and Quatre took the opportunity to glance at Rashid. The man said nothing, didn't give a hint that he knew why the Preventer agents were questioning him.

"We regret to inform you that Atifah Al-Shabat was shot today outside the Earth Sphere United Nation Information building."

Quatre had to keep from looking at Rashid again. 

"Apparently she was an innocent bystander in an attack on someone else. We thought that you might be able to provide us with more information on the woman so that we can contact her family."

"We will do what is necessary," said Rashid before Quatre could speak.

Both officers shook Quatre's hand, expressed their sympathy and were about to leave, when Rashid asked them who had been the intended target of the attack. Quatre was wondering if Rashid was probing to find out how much they knew, that perhaps he had been somehow involved in Atifah's death.

"Our preliminary investigation turned up a threatening phone call to the office of the assistant public relations director, Miss Dorothy Catalonia."

"Dorothy!" Quatre was so startled that he couldn't stop his exclamation.

"You are acquainted with Miss Catalonia?" asked the female officer.

"I had dinner with her and Randolph Morrison last night," he told them. "She had done my daughter a kind service, and I was considering investing with Mr. Morrison."

"Apparently they had a falling out last night and he called her office with a threat. Shortly after, when she was leaving for the day, a man in a car began shooting at her. Miss Shabat was nearby and was hit."

Quatre was afraid to ask about Dorothy. If something had happened to her, he would feel partly responsible after interrupting her plans with Morrison, which ultimately lead to the break-up of their relationship.

Rashid asked for him. "Was Miss Catalonia hurt?"

"I don't believe so."

After a few more polite words, the officers left. Quatre noticed Sadirah lurking in the hall outside her room, and he could see by her wide eyes that she had heard the conversation and was horrified by the violent death of the former nanny. He ignored her and stepped out to smoke, but his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't light the cigar and it failed to give him any comfort after Rashid did it for him.

"I should not have interfered with her life," he finally said to Rashid. "I should have left things as they were."

"You could not have done so," said his friend quietly, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

"I was glad that she threw him out, even knowing that I couldn't have her. But now..."

"The man tried to kill her," Rashid interrupted him. "He did cause the death of an innocent woman."

Quatre looked at him. "You were supposed to bring Atifah to speak to me. Now I will not get the answers I wanted."

"She eluded my men. For reasons unknown to me, she did not want to speak with you, Master Quatre."

"What was she doing there?" Quatre asked himself aloud. "What reason would have for being at that place?"

Rashid did not try to answer the question. 

"I have to see her." Quatre tossed aside the half-smoked cigar.

"I know that," responded Rashid. But before Quatre stepped through the door back into the suite, he heard him add. "Please be careful, Master Quatre."


	8. Chapter 8

****

Chapter 8

"I have to be going now." Relena gave Dorothy a quick hug. "I still can't believe that Randolph tried to kill you!" She shook her head, then headed to the door with Dorothy and Heero following her. Heero opened the door, but Relena paused on the threshold. "I guess you really can't judge a book by its cover. I confess that I was a little bit envious of you when you first introduced him."

"Is that so?" inquired Heero as he leaned against the doorframe. "And why was that?"

Relena glanced at him. "Well, he had the looks of a Greek god, and he was a little more reliable than some men."

Dorothy watched Heero lean in close to Relena. "He would bore you to tears."

She sighed as she swayed toward him. "I guess I can settle for something a little less than a god."

Heero stepped back. "I might see you later."

Relena sighed with disappointment, then waved to Dorothy before she left her house. Heero didn't close the door until Relena had settled into her limousine and it pulled away followed by security.

"Are you ever going to do something about her?" asked Dorothy as she turned and headed to the kitchen.

He ignored her question as he followed her. "You have anything to eat? I didn't have a chance to eat either lunch or dinner."

"I'm not much of a cook and the maid has gone home for the day." Dorothy opened the refrigerator and was relieved to note that the food prepared for her earlier but which she hadn't returned home to eat was in a dish on a shelf. She could handle using a microwave, so she tossed it in, then set two places at the table. 

Heero looked around the kitchen for a few moments and she wondered what he was thinking. Finally he said, "I am curious as to your motives for moving into this neighborhood."

"I didn't want to live at my grandfather's home," she explained. She pulled a bottle of wine from a wine rack. "Would you care for some?"

He shrugged. "I'm not on duty. Why not?" He came to her and took the bottle and corkscrew. "I would have thought that one of the Eastside penthouse apartments were more your style."

She leaned against the counter as she watched him. "What is wrong with this neighborhood?"

Heero popped the cork, and then poured wine into the two glasses she pulled from the counter. Setting aside the bottle, he took one glass then gently tapped it against hers. "To being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Dorothy frowned at him. "That was a rather macabre toast. Don't you feel any sort of pity for that woman?"

"From what you have told me, justice was served."

The timer on the microwave went off, so Dorothy took the meal out and placed it on the table. While she found some bread, Heero dished them both up. They ate in silence for several minutes before Heero continued with his interrogation.

"It's a nice neighborhood if you need this kind of thing. A playground nearby, large but comfortable, homey houses, and I've noticed quite a few children playing in the backyards."

"I like children," she said after sipping more wine. Heero topped off her glass, and she smiled. "You're not thinking of getting me drunk?"

"Might be a good thing. You almost had your brains blasted out."

She winced. "I was trying not to visualize that."

"Randolph was a pretty damn good shot, especially from a moving car."

Dorothy didn't even think Randolph owned a gun, but apparently he had managed to get his hands on one. "I suppose the investigation will turn up a lot about him that we didn't know."

"I suppose there is a nursery upstairs," commented Heero in a radical change of subject as he swirled the wine around in his glass.

Dorothy stared at the dark liquid for a moment before answering. "I turned it into an office."

"Good thing Randolph didn't work out. He wouldn't have wanted to convert it back to a nursery."

"You haven't answered my earlier question. I don't think it's fair to Relena to string her along as you have."

"You don't talk to Relena much, do you?" He drained the glass of wine and poured himself another. "She likes playing the naughty rich girl."

"How do you feel about playing the spy that sneaks into her bedroom window during the night?" Dorothy smiled as his eyes widened a bit in surprise. "I do talk to Relena, and she probably tells me more than you would like."

Heero chuckled. "I can't think about settling down with her when there are threats to the Earth Sphere United Nation."

"There are always going to be threats," Dorothy said with annoyance. "I think you had better do something now before some Greek god sweeps her off her feet and she starts locking her bedroom window at night."

Heero seemed genuinely annoyed by the possibility, one he probably had never considered. Relena dated men when he was gone, primarily to keep up appearances, so the opportunity for her be attracted to another was there. However, Dorothy knew that Relena would never be satisfied with anything less than Heero Yuy. She enjoyed making him uncomfortable.

When they finished eating, Dorothy cleared off the table but did not go as far as washing the dishes. That was what she paid a maid to do. She joined Heero in the living room where he had taken the half-empty bottle of wine and their glasses. He had already refilled hers. Dorothy knew she was going to have to be prepared for his subtle interrogation. 

"You said that Atifah Al-Shabat was at the plaza to meet you. What did she want?"

Dorothy kicked off her shoes and curled her legs under her as she propped an arm against the back of the couch. "I don't really know. Shortly before I left the building, I got a phone call from her. I met her in the plaza, but she didn't get much of a chance to say anything before the shooting."

"What did she say?"

"She seemed to be afraid."

Heero raised a brow. "Of you?"

"Hardly. I don't know what she was afraid of." That wasn't quite true. Dorothy clearly remembered Atifah telling her that Quatre's men were looking for her, but she didn't want to admit that to Heero. She took a drink of her wine, hoping that Heero wouldn't realize that she had lied. "She told me that I didn't understand, and she told me that there was something that I needed to know."

"Something you will never know now." Heero refilled his glass of wine. "I can count on you to serve the good stuff."

"I don't own anything but the good stuff."

Heero looked around the living room. "As I said before, homey, comfortable. So I have to ask myself what the hell Dorothy Catalonia is doing in a place like this."

The intercom to the security system buzzed, and as Dorothy went to answer it, Heero went to the window to peer out. "It's Winner," he said before she pressed the button to answer. "The fool is traveling around without his security again."

Dorothy hesitated in pressing the button to speak to him. Heero was watching her with the expectation that she would allow him to enter, that her new duties required her to encourage Quatre. 

She pressed the button. "It is getting late. What do you want?"

"To talk to you, Dorothy." Quatre sounded agitated. "I heard what happened to you today."

Heero crossed the room to where she was standing at the security panel and he put his hand over the microphone. "He may be able to tell you something about what that woman wanted of you or why she was afraid. I'll take the back way out."

He removed his hand and Dorothy said to Quatre, "You can come in for a short while. Heero Yuy is here." She disabled the security long enough for Quatre to get through the front gate.

Heero stopped on his way to the kitchen, then turned to look at her with a frown. "Since when do you need a chaperone?"

"Since my dates started shooting at me." As Dorothy went to the door, Heero returned to the couch where he re-filled both their glasses.

Quatre paused a few feet away from the door, and she was touched by the relief on his face as he proved to himself that she was not harmed. For a moment their gazes locked and she felt as if the world were tilting around her. 

Heero's voice broke the spell. "Get in here before someone uses your blond head for target practice."

Dorothy stepped aside for Quatre to pass by her, then closed the door. Quatre was looking at Heero sitting comfortably on her couch, his feet propped on a polished coffee table, and Dorothy could almost read his thoughts because they were plainly visible on his face. He wasn't expecting to find her with anyone, and certainly not a man. 

"Can I take your jacket?" she asked.

He slipped of the leather jacket and handed it over. As she carried it to the closet in the foyer, she breathed in the scent that was Quatre, his subtle spicy cologne, a hint of cigar mingled with the leather of the jacket. She shouldn't have done it because it brought back memories of long hot nights wrapped in his arms.

"I don't drink wine," she heard Quatre tell Heero, bringing her back to Earth.

Dorothy returned to the living room. "Can I get you something else to drink?" When he shook his head, she resumed her place on the couch.

For a moment no one spoke. Dorothy knew Quatre wanted to speak of things that he didn't want Heero to hear, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs. She didn't want to dig up the past. Everything that had happened to her was too painful so she didn't want Quatre to force her to relive it. They had gone on with their lives. She had established a respectable career that had nothing to do with her Dermail connections and Quatre had married and become a father. What happened between them in Barbados had to stay in the past where it belonged.

"I escorted Dorothy back here," explained Heero for lack of anything else to say.

"I didn't feel like driving myself," she said.

Quatre nodded. "I was quite shocked to hear what happened. Preventer officers came to my hotel suite to tell us of Atifah's death."

Silence fell over them again. Dorothy sipped her wine as she looked at anything but Quatre, and Heero drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of the couch, looking from her to Quatre and back. He finally took it upon himself to attempt to continue the conversation. "Are you aware that Atifah called Dorothy to arrange a meeting in the plaza shortly before her death?"

Quatre's blond brows arched in surprise. "I did not think she even knew of Miss Dorothy."

Heero smirked, obviously amused by Quatre's insistence on using a title before her name. She had once been annoyed by it, but he seemed to consider not using the title as being far too intimate. And she remembered many moments of intimacy when he didn't bother with the title.

"Is it possible," began Dorothy, "that Jamila spoke of me to Atifah?"

"I suppose so. She seemed to have a close relationship with Atifah." Quatre was thoughtful for a moment before remarking, "I was a bit surprised to discover that she was hurting her."

"Sometimes we don't know people as they really are." Heero was looking at Quatre with assessing eyes, and Dorothy knew that he was trying to decide whether Quatre was capable of financing the start of another war in space.

Quatre looked at Dorothy. "I think I will take you up on your gracious offer and ask for a cup of tea."

She was glad to leave behind the tension in the living room for the quiet kitchen. But she had barely had time to put the kettle of water on the stove before the kitchen door opened and she turned to see Quatre watching her.

"I had to see for myself that you were not harmed."

"Not a scratch," she told him before opening a cupboard and pushing things in her search for tea. She found coffee, but no tea, so she turned to ask if he would accept coffee and found that he had silently moved across the kitchen and was standing so close that she could feel the heat of his body.

"I didn't expect to find another man comforting you."

She put her hands on the counter behind her to steady herself. "Don't be ridiculous! Heero?" The idea was laughable.

Quatre put his hands on the edge of the counter on either side of her, trapping her. "What is so ridiculous? I've noticed him around you a lot."

"Strange that you always seem to be around when he is. Don't you think that is a coincidence, especially when he is a special operative for the Preventers and your safety has become a prime objective to them." Dorothy wanted to escape this forced intimacy, and yet she craved more. If she moved ever so slightly, their bodies would be touching, and the thought made her giddy and breathless.

"He had no idea I was coming here tonight."

"Are you jealous?" she asked, trying to sound angry but hearing a thrill in her voice.

"Do you want me to be jealous?" Putting his hands around her waist, he lifted her on the counter top then leaned into her. Dorothy couldn't help the jolt of excitement that ran straight through her. "Why don't you kiss me, Dorothy? You want it as much as I do."

She leaned toward him, closing her eyes and felt his warm breath as his lips neared hers.

The teakettle began to whistle.

Dorothy came to her senses and tried to push him away. "How can you do this when you have a wife waiting for you at home?"

"I don't have a home," he said bitterly before grabbing her shoulders, and keeping her still, he covered her mouth with his. Dorothy was angry that he forced this kiss on her, but that only seemed to heighten the pleasure, and soon enough she had tangled her fingers in his hair, returning the kiss without any thought except the need of him. No other man made her feel this way, not even close, and she didn't want it to end. 

His hands moved off her shoulders and around her back, and he pressed her to him before dropping his hands to her hips, grasping them and pulling her against him so that she could feel exactly how much he wanted her. Dorothy was ready to surrender to the uncontrollable desire she felt. Nothing could save her; nothing would stop her.

"An odd way to make tea."

Heero Yuy's voice from the doorway made Quatre step quickly away from her. Dorothy slid off the countertop and smoothed down her skirt, then turned her attention to the whistling teakettle. Her hands were shaking, her wobbly legs nearly failed her, but she managed to remove the kettle and noted with dismay that most of the water had steamed out. No tea and now no water.

"I think you had better go," she told Quatre in a voice that was far calmer than she felt.

The phone was suddenly ringing, and Dorothy crossed the kitchen to pick up that extension. She turned back and held the phone out to Heero. "Your boss wants to speak to you."

As he took the call, Dorothy left the kitchen with Quatre following her. They didn't speak until she was handing him his jacket and he covered her hands with his. 

"That isn't enough for me," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

She met his gaze. "What you can offer isn't enough for me."

Heero's entrance into the living room prevented any further exchange. "Good, you haven't left yet. I have some news that concerns you both." He looked at Dorothy. "Randolph Morrison turned himself in at headquarters when he learned of his death in the news."

"Randolph wasn't in the car?" Dorothy stared at him in disbelief. "But...but who would try to kill me?"

Heero now looked at Quatre. "When they realized that Morrison was not the driver of the car, the forensics squad analyzed the remains and came up with an identity: Khalid bin Fayiz. I believe he is in your employ."

Quatre stared at him incredulously. "Khalid? Khalid is dead?"

"The question is, why was your man trying to kill Dorothy Catalonia?"

Dorothy looked away from Quatre. She knew now that the attack had not been meant for her. Atifah had been the target. But why? And who had arranged it?

__

Arriving at the dance club, Quatre climbed out of the car, tossed his keys to the valet who hailed him by name, then went around to open the door for Dorothy. She could hear the loud music from inside, and there was a crowd outside. Dorothy was apprehensive about going into a place like this, but she allowed Quatre to lead her past others waiting to get in. She heard his name called a few times, so she knew that he was frequent patron even before the man guarding the door ushered him through, earning as his reward the very large bill that Quatre pressed in his hand.

Immediately disoriented by the flashing lights, the heavy beat of the music, and the crush of bodies moving together on a dark dance floor, Dorothy stumbled along with Quatre as he navigated his way through people. He was greeted many times, mostly by women, and he acknowledged them with a nod or a smile as he continued toward his destination.

She was surprised that there was a table free, then suspected that the bouncer at the door had radioed ahead to clear what appeared to be Quatre's table. Breathless, nerves on edge, Dorothy was relieved to finally be seated.

Almost immediately, a waitress stopped by. "Hey, Quatre! You want the usual?"

"And bring my companion a drink with an umbrella in it." He winked at Dorothy.

The waitress glanced at Dorothy. "Haven't seen you here before." She looked back at Quatre as if in question.

He ignored her to turn his attention to Dorothy. "Shall we dance?"

She felt anxious about joining the crowd, but she didn't want to look like a coward, so she nodded. Quatre was grinning as pulled her into the throng of dancing men and women. When she was hesitant to mimic the movements of the others, he took her hand and pulled her against him.

"You have to learn to move with me," he said, then leaned in close to murmur in her ear. "It may come in handy later."

For several awkward moments she felt like a rag doll, tossed about and bumping into him or other dancers. This dancing was far different from what she had done at the cafe. The music was faster, the beat heavy and non-stop. The flashing lights disoriented her, as well as the constant touching of her body against his, and worse by the occasional unidentified hand touching her. 

When she finally learned to dance, coaxed by the rhythm of his body once again, he released her hand to dance on her own. She stayed close to Quatre, and for awhile his attention remained on her, but they were soon joined by two women, one well endowed scantily clad red-head and the other a lean dark-skinned woman. They knew his name, and the smile he flashed them as well as the appreciative gaze he passed over their bodies told Dorothy that he was more than just a little acquainted to them. Soon he seemed to forget that she was there and Dorothy found herself dancing with another man, then another, and when she decided that she had enough, she pushed her way through the crowd to return to their table.

The drink was waiting, so she drank half immediately, then turned to look out at the dancers, searching for Quatre. She saw him immediately, dancing with one, then the other woman, the three of them thoroughly enjoying the suffocating press of bodies that Dorothy had escaped. Needless to say, the granddaughter of the Duke Dermail had been schooled by dance masters who taught her a proper waltz that she could dance at a cotillion. Until now, she hadn't realized how sheltered her life had been. But she was quickly realizing that she preferred the security of that life and not the chaos that Quatre Winner seemed to thrive on. He was sandwiched between the women, completely oblivious to her absence from the dance floor if not her entire presence at the dance club. 

Glancing at her watch she saw that it was well past midnight, and her head was beginning to ache from the loud music. The waitress dropped off another drink, which she finished without wasting any time. Dorothy wanted to leave, and so she looked about for Quatre again, but she didn't see him anywhere, nor did she see his brazen dance partners. Disgust and hurt roiled inside her, but she took a deep breath and berated herself for being so naive. 

"Would you like to dance?"

She looked up to see a dark-haired, dark-eyed man waiting for her answer. He was attractive and didn't eye her like a piece of meat, but she didn't want to go back on the dance floor. "I would rather go home."

Without her invitation, he took the chair across the table from her. "I saw you come in with the rich boy. You could be here all night if you're leaving with him."

Dorothy turned her attention back to the dancers, but she still couldn't find him. 

"I wouldn't mind getting out of here either. Can I give you a lift?"

She didn't even think about it. Grabbing her purse, she stood. "Let's go."

He took her around the edge of the dance floor, then to a back exit leading to the parking lot. An attendant gave him a set of keys, and they were headed toward a car when a voice behind them made her turn back.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

His hair was tousled, his shirt open and hanging out, and there was a half-dazed look on his face that warned Dorothy that he wasn't quite himself. As Quatre came closer, his eyes were blazing blue fire. 

"Are you taking my woman?" Quatre demanded of the man whose name she had never discovered.

"You seemed to have your hands full," he responded calmly as he took Dorothy's arm and pulled her behind him. 

Quatre came close enough to shove against his chest and Dorothy took a step back. "She came with me, she's going home with me."

Dorothy could almost feel the disapproval of her ancestors crushing down on her, as she seemed to be in the middle of a potential brawl. "I'm tired and I have a headache," she told Quatre. "He's just giving me ride since you seemed to be enjoying yourself."

Quatre shoved at the man again. "The only one giving her a ride will be me."

Shocked by his obvious insinuation, Dorothy gasped in outrage. Her chivalrous rescuer swung at Quatre and caught him in the jaw. He stumbled back and Dorothy tried to go to him, but the man shoved her back and pursued Quatre to punch him again. But Quatre charged at him and they were soon exchanging blows until the man finally threw him off and from out of his back pocket he pulled a switchblade that he snapped open. By the way he handled the weapon, Dorothy knew he had used it before and she chastised herself for walking out of the dance club with a man that was carrying a knife whose name she did not even know. When had she become such an idiot?

He took a swipe at Quatre who easily leaped back to avoid the tip. Shouts from the valet soon had a crowd gathered, and probably fearing arrest, the man quickly fled, jumping in his car and driving away, the wheels screeching as he left the lot.

The bouncer appeared on the scene as Quatre was getting up. "Are you all right, Mr. Winner?" He was checking him for any serious injuries.

Shoving him away, Quatre ran shaky hands through his hair and he swayed a bit before catching his balance. "I'm just fine." His voice was slurred as if he were drunk although Dorothy knew he didn't drink.

The bouncer shook his head, then went to the attendant to get a set of keys which he brought to Dorothy. "Take him home so he can sleep it off." The bouncer then ushered the crowd back inside before the police noticed the activity and decided to check out the dance club.

Unlocking the car as she walked toward it, Dorothy realized he must have been getting drugs from the women and the bouncer didn't seem surprised. Quatre was standing on the passenger's side, draped over the top of the door and she wondered if he was going to be sick on the way back to the beach house. As she settled into the driver's seat and Quatre threw himself into the passenger side, she scolded herself for believing Quatre Winner was still the pure of heart gundam pilot she had faced on the Libra. His erratic behavior made her depression look like a brief fit of confusion. 

As she drove the car, she gritted her teeth, angry with herself for almost allowing him to drag her down with him. He reeked of sweat and cheap perfume and she knew he was high on some drug. During the short drive back to the beach house, he didn't say anything until she had stopped the car and reached over to open her door.

"This was a bad idea," he said, his voice coming from the dark.

Dorothy didn't respond. She felt a tug in her chest.

"I thought you might like it."

"Like what?" she asked, her hand still on the door handle. "Having my life threatened by your reckless driving then being treated like a tramp?" She shoved the door open and stepped out of the car.

Quatre got out of the car too. "Don't expect an apology from me. You chose to stay here, and if you're not liking what you're getting, then maybe you should get the first flight out tomorrow."

She turned around to look at him. They stared at each other silently for a moment, the only sound from the ocean. A gust of wind whipped stray strands of hair around her face, and she didn't realize that she was crying until he came around the car and folded her in his arms.

"Don't get involved with me, Dorothy," he murmured against hair. "I can't give you what you need. I have nothing left; I am empty inside."

Returning to the suite very late after going for a drive, at times faster than prudent until he had a sudden vision of a little girl dressed in black standing at his grave, Quatre was annoyed to find that Sadirah waiting for him. She was dozing on the sofa in a pose she must have thought he would find irresistible, a silky white negligee clinging to her provocatively. Any other sane man wouldn't hesitate to lift her lovely body and carry her to his bed where he would keep her well into the following morning if not afternoon. But just looking at her gave Quatre a sour taste in his mouth. 

He quietly moved through the suite, stopping to check on Jamila and finding her sound asleep hugging her pillow and clutching the angel in her hand. She was probably going to break the delicate figure one night in her sleep, but Quatre couldn't take it away when it seemed to bring her such comfort. When he kissed her forehead, she smiled and burrowed further into the pillow. Quatre's heart ached as he watched her, knowing that he could never give her a happy home, not when he spent every waking moment wanting to be with Dorothy. But he couldn't be happy with Dorothy either, knowing that he had to sacrifice Jamila to Sadirah's care.

"I didn't think you would come back."

He heard her sleepy voice from the doorway. "Go to bed, Sadirah."

She stepped aside so that he could exit Jamila's room, but he noted that she didn't so much as look in on her daughter. Sadirah followed him to his room, which was across the room from his own. They had never shared a room, and when they were first married it bothered him that she shut him out, but now he was glad that he could shut his door on her.

When she waited at his door instead of going to her bed, Quatre was forced to acknowledge that she wanted to speak to him. Without looking at her, without speaking, he waited, and she waited for him to say anything until she lost her subservient patience. 

"I had some time to think while you were out."

"About your next shopping trip? About your next lunch engagement? Your next investment?" Quatre didn't bother to hide his sarcasm.

Sadirah drew in a breath and laid a hand on her chest in a move so blatantly melodramatic that he almost laughed. "I...I am hurt that you believe I am so shallow!"

"Shallow? There is no depth to you at all, Sadirah." He leaned against the doorframe as he looked at her. "If it weren't for Jamila, I would have ended this useless marriage long ago."

"I have tried to be a good wife to you. Have I ever betrayed you?"

He honestly couldn't say that she had.

"I know that you won't leave me because of Jamila." Sadirah came close and put her hand on his chest. "Perhaps I have been selfish in the past, but I can change. I know it would make you happy if I gave you another child. A son?"

Quatre grabbed her wrist and thrust her hand away. "I can't imagine anything more irresponsible than forcing another innocent child to suffer you as his or her mother."

She stood glaring at him, her features twisted into an ugly mask. If she ever showed this face to the public she would soon lose her throngs of admirers.

"Do you think I will stand for this? Do you think I have no resources on my own?" 

Quatre smiled at her. "I'm hoping you'll try something, Sadirah."

"Are you threatening me? Are you going to have Rashid and your men dispose of me like you did Atifah?"

His eyes narrowed. "How did you know...?"

"The Preventers returned after you left to inform us that Khalid killed Atifah!" She gave him a smug smile. "Maybe I should tell them that you were furious about what Atifah did to your daughter, that you sent your men after her."

"You do that, Sadirah." Quatre wanted to slap the gloating smile from her face. "I have nothing to hide. Besides, you have had just as much an opportunity to solicit an attack of vengeance on Atifah."

She stared at him in silent fury for a moment, then spun on her heel and walked into her room across the hall, slamming the door behind her.

The following morning Quatre called his office to inform her father that he would not be coming into work, then he ordered the hotel nanny to dress Jamila for a trip to the zoo. Sadirah watched silently, her disapproval obvious, and sensing that her mother didn't want her to like his planned excursion, Jamila dragged her feet and even whined about having to see the poor animals. Once the elevator door closed, she hugged Quatre's leg, and he picked her up to kiss her cheeks.

"Thank you, papa! I do so want to see the zoo! But I didn't want mama to be angry."

"Mama is not angry at you," he told her as he tucked a platinum blond curl behind her ear. Quatre knew that Sadirah was furious with him. After last night, their relationship, which had been existing on appearances only, was doomed to crumble in every way. But he didn't want to save it. His only concern was that Jamila not be hurt.

The zoo was across the city, so they enjoyed a comfortable limousine ride, escorted in front and in back with cars containing his security. The car phone rang once, and checking to see whom the incoming call was from, Quatre decided not to take Barak's call. There wasn't anything planned for him to do that day that his manager could handle on his own, so he didn't allow Jamila's grandfather to interrupt her fun.

Jamila was delighted with the many animals, and Quatre was impressed with the attempt made to create natural habitats. This was no zoo with filthy, pitiable animals, although Quatre did agree with Jamila that they probably would prefer to be elsewhere. 

They were observing the antics of some monkeys when Jamila turned and suddenly exclaimed, "Is that Miss Dorothy?"

Quatre turned in the direction she was looking and did indeed see Dorothy approaching, flanked by two men carrying cameras. Dressed in a gray silk suit that molded to her body with every movement she made, Quatre had not a single thought to the business that she might have with him and wondered how any other man could. Her skirt didn't reach her knees, and the sight of her legs made him recall a particularly pleasant memory of those limbs entwined with his own.

She extended her hand as she approached. "Good morning, Mr. Winner. I called your office and Mr. Barak told me that you had come to the zoo with your daughter, so I thought this would be a perfect opportunity for some shameless publicity. You must realize that keeping such a facility open requires a great deal of money."

Quatre took her hand and resisted the urge to pull her against him. "I'm not sure what you would like from me. If it is a donation..."

She signaled to the men accompanying her. "Perhaps if you would allow us to take a shot of you and your daughter enjoying the zoo..."

"Absolutely not." He reached out to pull Jamila behind him. 

Dorothy seemed disconcerted. "Are you sure I cannot persuade you..."

"No."

She sighed and turned back to the photographers. "Well, you heard the man. Why don't you guys return to the office and pick up another assignment." When they had gone, Dorothy looked back to them and reached down to shake Jamila's hand. Jamila didn't hide her delight to see Dorothy. "Are you enjoying the zoo, Jamila?"

Jamila nodded enthusiastically. "Have you seen the lions, Miss Dorothy? They are so grand! Will you come with me to see them?" Jamila was tugging on her hand.

"Jamila, you are being rude," Quatre gently scolded her.

Dorothy laughed softly. "I would be delighted to visit the lions with you. Let me have a moment to speak to your father." She looked at Quatre, and for a moment, she didn't say anything as their eyes met. He ached to hold her in his arms, but they had to stand apart in public. "I'm sorry about the little production. I know that you do not allow Jamila to be photographed out of concern for her safety. I needed some type of excuse to see you."

"Then it is fortunate that we came to the zoo." Quatre didn't dare hope that she had no other reason to see him other than the same compelling need that simmered inside him. 

A smile curved her lips. "I'm sure I could have thought of any type of excuse to see you. That is why I get paid so much."

Jamila tugged on her hand. "Let's go, Dorothy."

For the rest of the morning, Dorothy joined them in their zoo visit. Jamila monopolized her time and Quatre was chagrined to realize that he was jealous of his daughter. Dorothy bought her a balloon and cotton candy, and she was a fount of information on all the animals that they saw. Jamila soaked it in, and Quatre imagined that she would be recounting the story of her zoo visit for many days to anyone who would listen.

Finally, they visited the petting zoo together where Jamila was overjoyed to touch the domesticated farm animals. When a chicken avoided her fingers, Jamila pursued it to the amusement of the staff. Not a single one would deny the only child of the richest man alive.

As Jamila chased the chicken in the pen, Dorothy stepped out to stand by Quatre.

"This is a very nice way to spend a day with your child. Where is your wife?"

"She hates zoos."

Dorothy turned to watch Jamila corner the hen. "Too bad."

Quatre leaned close to her, moving so that his body brushed against hers. "She would spoil the day." 

"I'm sure she would." Dorothy turned her face away from him, and he realized that she was more levelheaded than he was. Quatre didn't need the kind of publicity he would get if he kissed her in public.

Jamila came back to them, out of breath, her cheeks pink, but she was crushing a squawking chicken in her hands. "Look, papa! I caught a chicken!"

When the visit came to an end, Quatre was probably as much or more disappointed than Jamila. Standing before his limousine, Dorothy dropped to a knee before Jamila, and giving her a hug, told her that she had enjoyed spending time with her. Jamila threw her arms around her neck and held tightly, and Quatre could see that she was valiantly trying not to cry. She desperately needed a mother.

Finally she stepped back. "I hope I will see you again, Miss Dorothy."

"I am sure that you will."

Jamila fished around in her drawstring handbag, and then her eyes widened before she jerked it open and looked inside. When she looked at Dorothy, her eyes were glistening with tears. "I wanted to show you that I am taking good care of the angel. I forgot her in my room!"

Dorothy smiled at her as she stroked Jamila's cheek, then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You may bring her to visit with me another time."

Jamila climbed into the car, and Dorothy turned to Quatre.

He wanted to kiss her and thought he saw the same yearning in her eyes, but they did not act. "Thank you for making this an enjoyable day for Jamila."

Reaching in her purse, she withdrew and handed him what anyone watching might think was her business card. "If there is anything I can do for you, Mr. Winner, please do not hesitate."

Quatre got in the limousine, and as it pulled onto the street, he looked at the card in his hand. It was a card key to a room in his hotel several floors below the suite he occupied. She had scribbled a time on it, and glancing at his watch, he saw that it was an hour away.

The hour between now and then would feel like an eternity.


	9. Chapter 9

****

Chapter 9

As she waited for Quatre to arrive, Dorothy paced nervously in the hotel room. Despite the fact that it was an elegant, exclusive hotel, everything seemed tawdry to her as she waited for a married man to meet her. That morning when she had arrived at work, an envelope from the Preventer chief was lying on her desk, and inside she found the two card keys. She had considered calling Bob Morley and telling him that she refused to accept his assignment. She was mortified by the very real possibility that Heero had reported what he had seen in her kitchen and his superior had assumed that she would not balk at spending time alone with Quatre. The reservation had been made under a fictitious name and a week had been paid in advance. Dorothy couldn't spy on Quatre! She refused to believe that he would knowingly supply the dictator on L4 with mobile suits when they had been unilaterally outlawed throughout the Earth Sphere United Nation. She decided to ask him outright.

So she called his office hoping that she could meet him there, and when she was told that he had not come in for the day, Dorothy was faced with the delicate task of calling his suite at the hotel. Fortunately Rashid took the call and he informed her that Quatre had taken his daughter to the zoo. He was so specific in his information that Dorothy suspected he wanted her to seek him out. Knowing that meeting him at the zoo might be viewed as suspicious to the tabloid press that was eager for any stories that might rock the seemingly ideal marriage of the tycoon and his beautiful wife, Dorothy devised the innocent excuse of publicity for the zoo. When she suggested it to her superior, the PR director had difficulty meeting her gaze, then mumbled that she would do what she had to do. She suspected that if news of an affair between her and Quatre Winner leaked to the press, she would lose her position.

The morning at the zoo had been so enjoyable that she was disappointed when it had come to an end. Spending time with Jamila filled an empty place in her heart, and yet it was painful because Jamila was another woman's child. Dorothy didn't try to pretend that Quatre and Jamila belonged to her, but she did devote her energies to making Jamila's trip to the zoo a day to remember. Dorothy knew that she would never forget it. 

Hearing the card slip into the lock, Dorothy smoothed down her skirt and turned to face the door. Quatre stepped in and quietly closed the door before turning to see her. For a moment he stood across the room, his gaze locking with hers. Dorothy couldn't think of anything clever to say because she was feeling as nervous as a teenage girl on her first date. This feeling of not knowing what to expect was not unpleasant, and her resolve to keep this meeting from becoming personal was quickly evaporating.

"This isn't like you, Dorothy," Quatre finally said, walking across the room to her. 

When he was standing before her, she felt a tingle of excitement race down her spine. "Are you disappointed in me?"

Quatre framed her face with his hands, tilting her head up and looking into her eyes. "You can't imagine how I feel at this moment. Disappointed in you? Never. I am wondering if you are disappointed in me for leaving Jamila with Rashid so that I could be with you."

"Was your wife there?" she asked. The thought of his beautiful wife waiting for him back in his hotel suite cooled her ardor a bit. Although she didn't want to, Dorothy jerked her face from his hands and moved away from him to sit on the small sofa. 

"I don't know," he said as he sat with her. He ran a hand through his hair, then looked at her with a confused frown before reaching out to put his hand on her thigh. "Does it matter?"

Dorothy stood and moved away. Wringing her hands, she resumed the pacing she had been doing. "I wanted to talk to you, Quatre."

"You could have talked to me at the zoo, or we could have arranged to have lunch with Heero Yuy sitting between us." His tone was sarcastic. "You didn't need to lure me here."

She paused to look at him, part of her angry about his accusation, the other part feeling guilty because she had lured him here. "We couldn't have this discussion at the zoo, not with Jamila present. You may not think she is old enough to understand what is happening around her, but I think you would be surprised how much she observes."

Quatre seemed to consider what she said, and for a moment he didn't say anything, then his eyes met hers. "I know she has observed that you who have no child are a better mother than her own."

His comment touched a chord deep inside her, and she had to take a settling breath before speaking again. "But Sadirah is her mother..."

"Sadirah is no mother!" Quatre stood and approached Dorothy, and there was genuine anger in his eyes. "I have never seen her touch, let alone, hold my daughter with affection. The only mothers Jamila has ever known are the nannies that have been subsequently banished by that bitch."

"Some women have difficulty adjusting to..."

"I didn't come here to talk about Sadirah." He reached for her, but Dorothy stepped away.

"She stands between us, Quatre, no matter how much you don't want to see her there." Dorothy didn't want to talk about Sadirah either, but she had a conscience regardless of what Bob Morley might think, or Heero Yuy or even Quatre. "You must have spoken vows to her. Will you so easily break them?"

Quatre sighed. "I spoke vows so that I could give my child a family." His eyes met hers. "I am not proud of this, Dorothy, but the fact is that I took advantage of Sadirah's innocence and Jamila is the result. I have asked Allah a thousand times in my prayers why it could not have been you who gave me Jamila after I had done exactly the same thing to you."

Dorothy turned away so that he could not see her tears. "You did not take advantage of me, Quatre. Perhaps I took advantage of you."

She felt his presence behind her even before he put his hands on her shoulders and pressed his face into her neck. Dorothy shuddered as her need for him threatened the control she had on her feelings. Stepping away, she put a few feet of distance between them and turned again to look at him. He didn't hide that he was becoming frustrated. 

"Stop playing games, Dorothy. I want you, and I know when I touch you that you feel the same. I don't want to talk about Jamila, and I certainly don't care to be reminded about my wife, not by you."

Dorothy couldn't move if she wanted to when Quatre closed the distance between them and slipped his arm around her waist. Drawing her to him, he lowered his head to hers and this time she allowed him to kiss her. As his lips moved over hers, she forgot the original purpose for meeting him here, and she responded by sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck. Quatre reached down to lift her, and as he carried her to the bed, she clung to him and pulled him atop her when he laid her on the bed. The weight of his body on hers, the obvious proof of his desire pressing against her suddenly made her clothing an irritation. 

Pushing him over on his back, she broke the kiss and straddled him. As she unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it aside, he slid his hands over her thighs and up her back where he unhooked her lacy bra then slowly drew it down her arms before it joined her blouse lying over the edge of the bed. His gaze met hers for a moment, and Dorothy shivered with anticipation when his lids lowered and he sat up to press a brief kiss to her lips before moving downward. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding his head to hers as his mouth caressed her flesh and made her body smolder with long unfulfilled desires. Her back arched to him, and she felt as if she had little control over the sensual movement of her hips against his. His touch made her ache for more, and she knew there would be no stopping what would happen even if she had the willpower to use some sense.

Quatre reached behind her to unfasten her skirt, then rolled her onto her back to peel off the garment which joined the pile falling off the bed into a heap on the floor. Her last coherent thought was that her clothing was going to be wrinkled, then Quatre slowly worked off the rest of her clothing as he kissed a trail downward. Dorothy grabbed handfuls of the bed coverlet and bit her lip in a futile effort not to sound wanton but failing miserably as he brought her to brink of pleasure she hadn't felt in too long. When he moved away from her, she moaned in disappointment until he tossed off his clothing and quickly rejoined her. 

Smoothing back her hair, he looked into her eyes. "Tell me that you want me, Dorothy."

"You know that I do," she answered breathlessly.

She arched to meet the joining of their bodies, then clung to him helplessly as he brought her to such a pleasurable plateau that she shamelessly cried out his name. Sex with other men wasn't the same as being with him. As she was lying in the circle of his arms, his lips caressing her temple as her body slowly came back down from the heights he had taken her, she was forced to acknowledge that she would never feel the same. Dorothy wasn't exactly sure when he had taken her heart and soul, whether it had begun out in space during their erratic youth or in Barbados when they were both lost and searching for someone to cling to. Being with him again made her realize how empty her relationships had been and how much she really didn't enjoy them. She hadn't really been looking for a man to make her feel like Quatre did because deep inside she knew that such a man didn't exist. 

"How long do you have this room?" he asked her as one of his hands caressed her tingling body.

Sighing, she looked at him, knowing that she had yet to achieve her purpose for coming here. "When must you return to L4?"

"I was planning to stay on Earth for another week." He brushed her lips with his own. "I'd like to stay longer, but I have to return as soon as possible."

"How can you live there when the president of your colony is a fanatic who seems determined to bring war to space again?" Dorothy moved her head so that she could see his face.

Quatre frowned at her. "Is this a particular concern of yours?"

She hesitated too long in answering and she saw in his eyes that he realized she might have other motives for meeting him here. "I'm sorry, Quatre, but I am worried about you, and your little girl."

"You don't have to worry about us. Opponents of Mahmad Al-Jazar taint the information you must be getting about my colony."

"The man is a ruthless dictator, and I cannot believe you are defending him!" Dorothy pulled away from him. "It must be true! You are funding his activities!"

"What are you talking about?" Quatre grabbed her wrist to prevent her from leaving the bed.

Dorothy glared at him. "I thought you might have changed! Because you have a wife and a child, I was sure you had curbed that self-destructive streak in you, but you haven't."

"I have changed, Dorothy. You changed me, or don't you remember?" He pulled her to him, and although she was determined not to yield, when he held her in the circle of his arms, she had difficulty thinking rationally.

"I hoped I had changed you, but I was wrong. The only one who had been changed was me."

Quatre rolled her on her back and looked down at her. "I'm not aiding Al-Jazar in any quest to conquer space."

"What are you manufacturing on satellite X7350? According to Preventer operatives you have concluded a contract with Al-Jazar to produce mobile suits for his military."

For a moment, he stared down at her silently, and then she saw the anger in his eyes as well as in the tensing of his body. "Is that why you met me here? To screw the answers out of me?"

Tears burned her eyes. "That wasn't my intention."

"That must have been somebody's intention and you let them use you like a common prostitute. I already have one of those, Dorothy. At least I knew that Sadirah was fucking me for wealth and position. I thought you wanted to be with me." He shoved himself away from her and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. 

"I am sorry, Quatre, if I have hurt you, but it wasn't my intent. I had hoped to discuss this rationally with you, but you didn't give me a chance."

He didn't look back at her so she couldn't determine how he felt except by his voice and he kept it coolly neutral. "Is that why you kept flinging Sadirah at me like a bucket of ice?"

She put her hand on his back and she felt his body shudder beneath it. Dorothy could only hope that he wasn't repulsed. "I didn't want you to make a mistake you would regret later."

"Did you make a mistake that you will regret later?" He turned around to look at her, seeking her gaze and Dorothy didn't look away. "Like you regret what happened between us in Barbados?"

Her hand fell away, and she felt an ache in her heart. He would never know how much joy and pain those few days had brought to her life.

_Something had awakened Dorothy from the fitful sleep into which she had finally fallen after Quatre left her at her door without a word. After what had happened that night, she realized that she was confused about her feelings about Quatre. His erratic behavior revealed to Dorothy just how troubled he was despite or because of his wealth and power. Quatre Winner didn't seem to be able to find his place in a world where peace had abruptly replaced the turbulence of war. Dorothy understood his feelings, but while she had shut herself away, he had adopted a lifestyle that would kill him. That attitude she couldn't understand. Dorothy was beginning to realize just how much she wanted to move on with her life._

The wind rattled the windows of the French doors and lightening illuminated the room for a moment. Drawn by the fury of the storm, Dorothy tossed aside her blanket and crossed the room to look out the windows. The wind was making the palm trees sway and bend, and in the eerie pre-dawn light, she could see white-capped waves crashing up against the shoreline. Thunder rumbled in the distance, so she knew that the full brunt of the storm was not yet upon them. Opening the door, she stepped out onto the patio and turned her face to the wind, closing her eyes and shaking out her long hair. After the hot, humid days, she almost felt relief as the wind rushed against her, lifting her hair and whipping it around her. 

Lightening brightened the sky again, and Dorothy opened her eyes to look along the shore. As thunder cracked almost overhead, she saw a figure on the beach and realized that Quatre was standing at the edge of the water holding his arms out to the raging wind, dressed as he was earlier so she guessed he had not slept at all. His unbuttoned white shirt flapped out behind him until a gust blew it off, and Dorothy watched as it whirled in the air before crashing into the foamy water. Not only did he ignore the storm rolling in upon them, but he turned to face it.

The crack of thunder accompanied the lightening that raced through the sky directly above them, branching out in many directions. Dorothy couldn't stand by and watch a bolt of lightening fry Quatre Winner when she was quite sure he was still in some drug-induced delirium. So she crushed her own fear of the storm and ran down to the beach, her heart seeming to stop in her chest each time the thunder boomed and the lightening charged the air.

When she reached him, she gave him a shove that made him stumble forward and he barely managed to catch his balance to keep from pitching face first into the churning water. 

"Are you crazy?" she shouted, trying to make herself heard above the wind.

Quatre spun to face her and she saw that he was laughing. "I should be asking you that, Miss Dorothy!"

"What are you doing out here? You are going to get killed!"

He swept his arm out to the wind, and behind him she saw lightening hurtle downward to the ground which shook shortly thereafter with the thunder. "How can you not love nature's fury? We don't have this on L4."

Dorothy tried to look at the storm from his point of view and could only see the danger. "Can't you watch this from a safe distance?"

A gust of wind whipped the hair around her, and Quatre reached out to brush it away, then rested his hand on her cheek. "It's not the same unless you stand in the middle of it."

Lightening struck so close by that her heart jumped and she moved closer to him. Quatre slid his hand up and tangled his fingers in her hair, then lowered his head to press his lips to hers in a gentle kiss that soon turned as wild and passionate as the storm breaking around them.

Dorothy didn't notice when the heavens opened up and the rain poured down upon them. She clung to him as he made her forget the storm, forget who she was, forget how cruel he had been to her only hours earlier. The flesh beneath her fingers was slick from the rain when she ran them over his chest and around to his back. Quatre's hands slid over her shoulders, pushing the lacy straps of her sopping wet satin nightgown down her arms as he peeled the wet layer from her skin. When it pooled around her legs until landing in the ankle-deep water they were standing in, he moved his hands slowly up her body, stroking, caressing until she didn't think she could bear the pleasure he was giving her.

Lifting her, he carried her across the beach and back to her bedroom where he lay her gently on the bed. When he stepped back from the bed, she bit her lip to keep from crying out her disappointment. Dorothy wanted him to finish what he started, but he seemed reluctant.

"I had better go."

She scrambled to her knees on the bed and grabbed his arm before he could leave. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

For a moment he said nothing and she could hear the driving rain as well as the thunder now moving away with the storm. "You know why I brought you here?" he finally asked her.

Dorothy didn't want to answer.

"To make a fool of you, Dorothy Catalonia." He sounded angry with himself, and he plunged his fingers through his wet hair. "But you have turned the tables on me."

Her heart ached and tears make her eyes prickle to hear her suspicions confirmed, that she was even less than a momentary diversion to ease his boredom, but the object of his depraved amusement. "I...I haven't tried to..."

"You don't need to try." Quatre closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to clear it, then he opened them to glare at her. "Go to sleep, Dorothy, or I will do something that you will probably regret."

Dorothy looked at his face. "I would regret it if you didn't."

He continued to glare at her for a moment, then he reached down to jerk off his pants. Dorothy tried not to show how frightened she was as he joined her on the bed, forcing her on her back and covering her body with his. When his mouth covered hers, she barely had time to realize his kiss was not so gentle before his intrusion into her body was causing sharp, burning pain. 

She moved her head away from his kiss and was about to beg him to stop when he drew away from her. Her relief was short-lived however because he grasped her hips in a bruising grip and suddenly thrust deeply into her, breaking through her barrier. The pain was so intense that she could hold back neither her cry nor the tears that followed. Dorothy didn't want to believe that he could be so heartless, but then she became aware that his lips were kissing away her tears.

"I'm sorry, Dorothy," he murmured in her ear. "And yet I'm not."

Grabbing a handful of his hair, she raised his head to look at him in the faint light filtering in from the window. Despite the pain that had subsided to a dull ache, as her body grew accustomed to him, she said, "I'm not sorry either." Then she added shyly, "Is this all there is to it?"

A slow smile curved his lips. "There's a little more."

A little more turned into a lot more, and the sun was high in the sky before she drifted off to sleep curled into his warmth, a contented smile on her lips. 

Waking later, she judged by the position of the sun that it was late afternoon. Quatre was gone, but in his place he had left a large white lily. She smiled to herself as she lifted the flower and breathed in its fragrance. Dorothy wasn't completely ignorant about sex, having heard other girls talk about their experiences when she was at boarding school. She had never had anything to add to such conversations because when she wasn't at the all-girl school, older men who didn't seem to see her as a female surrounded her at the Dermail home. Dorothy wouldn't even be able to put into words how Quatre had made her feel, nor would she want to share the experience. 

Realizing that she was hungry, she sat up and winced from the sudden pain she felt as she stood. Parts of her that she hadn't noticed in the past were aching from sudden and thorough use, but it wasn't an unbearable pain and it soon subsided by the time she stepped into the shower. Standing under the hot spray, she smiled to herself as she thought of Quatre's hands touching her, his lips moving over hers, his body one with hers. Dorothy couldn't imagine having thoughts of anything else from now on.

The glass shower door suddenly slid open and Dorothy gasped and sputtered under the water when she saw Quatre standing just outside the shower wearing only a towel around his waist as he watched her. 

"You started without me." He grinned as he tugged off the towel, and tossing it aside, stepped into the shower with her. 

The shower was small, but Quatre soon showed her an advantage to that. Food was forgotten until much later when she was lying in his arms, a cool breeze wafting over them as she watched the sunset through the open window. Somewhere a phone was ringing, but beyond a slight tensing of his body, Quatre didn't acknowledge it. Just when Dorothy thought she might go answer the phone, the ringing stopped and Quatre relaxed.

She lifted her head from his chest to look at his face. "Shouldn't you have answered? It may have been important."

He shrugged. "I pay people to take care of things for me."

"Do you pay people to provide food for us?" Dorothy's stomach growled.

Quatre chuckled, then sat up. "I guess we'll need some sustenance in order to keep this up."

Although they had been as intimate as a man and woman could possibly be, Dorothy still felt her cheeks heating with a blush. He noticed it, but he only smiled before turning away from her and leaving the bed. Grabbing his towel from the floor, he wrapped it around his waist. "I'll meet you on the patio in about ten minutes."

In the ten minutes she put on one of the dresses he had purchased for her the first day they had come here, brushed through her tangled hair, then went out to the patio to meet him. He was waiting, wearing casual clothing, and he had already mixed her a drink, which he handed to her. 

Dorothy only took a sip before turning her attention to the food on the table. Although she was so hungry she would eat anything, an appetizing feast was waiting for them. "You must pay your servants very well."

"They are very loyal. I don't think money has anything to do with it." Then he added, "Of course I do reward their loyalty generously. I can afford to."

During the meal, the phone rang again, and this time the silent servant appeared carrying a cordless phone. Quatre seemed annoyed, but he took the call, and Dorothy couldn't understand a word he said because he was speaking Arabic. His tone was polite, yet impatient, and she wondered if he cut the conversation short when he handed the phone back to the servant who bowed and left them alone.

"Your manager is very persistent," she remarked.

"Too persistent," he grumbled. "Would you like to go for a walk on the beach? There aren't any phones out there to bother us."

Dorothy glanced out at the dark beach, bathed in from the full moon. She could scarcely believe that less than twelve hours earlier there had been a violent storm. Dorothy felt different and knew that it wasn't because of the sex. Looking back at Quatre who was waiting for her answer she knew why she had changed. 

Quatre had filled an empty place in her heart. Without knowing how or why, and against any grain of common sense, she had fallen in love.

Watching Dorothy dress after her quick shower, Quatre felt a niggling sense of regret because he knew by her silence that she was bothered by what they had done. Even knowing that his marriage to Sadirah was on shaky grounds, she didn't want to be the cause of its complete collapse. She didn't realize that his feelings for her prevented him from committing to Sadirah, but then Sadirah didn't give a damn if he loved her or not as long as she had his money to spend and his name to use. 

Dorothy finished buttoning her blouse and grabbed her jacket from the chair over which she had carefully draped it earlier. "I have to get back to the office."

"Which office?" Quatre didn't care if he sounded bitter. Then again, he should probably feel grateful that she had accepted the duty to spy on him or they might not have spent this afternoon together.

"I'm sorry." She headed to the door.

Quatre had the feeling that she wouldn't meet him here again, but he had to ask. "When am I going to see you again?"

Although she paused at the door, she didn't answer before she opened it and walked out.

Quatre stared at the closed door for a moment, and he felt a sense of loss every bit as deep as the day he had awakened to find her gone from the beach house. Somehow he had felt responsible for her leaving Barbados without an explanation, that she had seen something in him that had frightened her away. He hadn't planned to fall in love with her. At the time he had thought it would be amusing to break her tough shell and leave her a little wiser in the way of the world. Quatre hadn't expected her to be so naive, not after her experiences during the war. The woman he had seduced in Barbados hardly bore any resemblance to the girl who had fanatically done the bidding of the Romefeller Foundation by spying in the Cinq Kingdom then joining the White Fang in a misguided attempt to prove the futility of war. 

When he first saw her in the restaurant, he thought she was a bored socialite who might appreciate some entertainment. After he realized his mistake, he should have sent her home, and even though he hadn't, Quatre hadn't planned to let things go as far as they did. But the romantic walks on the beach, the kisses in the moonlight weren't enough for either of them. He had even tried to push her away by letting her see the worst possible side to him at the dance club. Quatre hadn't expected the jealous rage he felt when another man was going to take her home, and he was sure she would hop on the first plane off the island. They might have been better off if she had. His heart had been broken when she left him, and he knew she was the only woman who could heal it.

Quatre took his time dressing, and when he finished, he called for his car, then went to the hotel lobby where he met Rashid. "Where is Sadirah?" he asked him.

"In the suite."

"What has she been up to today?" he asked curiously as he reached into his jacket to pull out his cigar case. 

"Several pairs of shoes, a purse, lingerie that would make a prostitute blush..."

Quatre chuckled as he imagined Rashid standing in a lingerie shop watching his wife buy garments that she would wear in a futile attempt to seduce him back to her bed. After being with Dorothy again, he wouldn't even be able to pretend Sadirah was the woman he wanted. He could imagine the taste of her, how her supple body felt moving with him to achieve a mutual pleasure. There was nothing Sadirah could do to make him want her like he did Dorothy, even now.

After he was settled in the limousine with Rashid, Quatre asked, "She didn't meet any men?"

"Her father called her cell phone while she was shopping."

"I don't suppose you listened to their conversation?"

Rashid smiled then pulled out of his pocket an electronic device that allowed him to eavesdrop on any cellular phone conversation. Whatever signal it received was relayed to a receiver tucked in his ear. "They made plans to have lunch with Randolph Morrison tomorrow."

Hearing Morrison's name reminded Quatre of another pressing concern. "What have you discovered about Khalid's motive for killing Atifah?"

Rashid raised a brow. "What makes you believe that he meant to kill Atifah? From what you have said, the first bullet was meant for Miss Catalonia."

Quatre frowned. "Why would he want to harm her?"

For a moment Rashid did not answer as he looked away to stare out the window. When he looked back, Quatre could see that he appeared to feel troubled. "My men are obviously aware of your dissatisfaction with your marriage."

Quatre lit his own cigar with a gold lighter that had been a gift from his father-in-law. "Are you telling me that they have discussed my personal life?"

"There are a handful who question how you could not adore Sadirah. She is beautiful, gracious, and fulfills her duties as your wife without complaint. Many men pursue her, yet she does not even look at them."

"Should I question the loyalty of my own men?" asked Quatre, annoyed that Sadirah had so easily duped the men that guard his life. He raised a brow when Rashid did not answer immediately. "Should I question your loyalty?"

"I would never betray you, Master Quatre. But I cannot help wondering why you won't love the woman who gave you a child and does all that she can to earn your approval."

Quatre ground out his cigar in the ashtray and blew out a breath. "I can't love her, Rashid. You know that I love someone else."

"And I do not understand how you fell in love with the woman that almost caused your death during the war." Rashid was clearly frustrated by the conundrum that his master's personal life had suddenly become. 

"Do you think I wanted to fall in love with her? Her family gained its wealth by supporting war and producing mobile dolls, and what is worse, she was able to control those mobile dolls better than any soldier could. She grew up in an environment in direct opposition to the pacifist ideals of my family."

"She is a woman now and has made a life for herself separate from her family," observed Rashid. He shook his head sadly. "I suppose there is no denying the heart."

The car pulled to a stop in front of the office building housing the Preventers, and Quatre waited for his bodyguards to assemble before he exited the limousine. He could see that there was already increased security since the shooting had occurred only a couple of blocks away, and he was aware of the tension between his men and the security officers of the Earth Sphere United Nation as he went to the building.

The guard at the door was about to demand some type of security clearance, but Heero Yuy seemed to emerge from the panels of the wall to ease his entrance into the building. 

"I suppose you want to see my superior," said Heero as he led Quatre to an elevator. When his men tried to join him, Heero put up his hand. "Your goons will have to entrust your safety to me."

Rashid nodded and Quatre heard him order the men to relax as they waited for him. 

When the door shut, Quatre remarked, "I hadn't considered my men 'goons.'"

"Maybe you should."

Quatre raised a brow. "What does that mean?"

"You will soon find out." As the elevator headed upwards, Heero remarked, "I didn't think she would be able to do it."

Quatre's hand closed into a fist he would have liked to land on Heero's face, but he relaxed it. "You didn't put her up to it, did you?"

Heero shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to her. I thought she might be nursing a broken heart, but I didn't think it was over you."

"Dorothy doesn't have a broken heart over me." If she could walk away from what they shared in Barbados, then have sex with him so that she could get a little information, then she had a heart of steel. 

Heero continued as if he didn't hear him. "After the war, she had holed up in Dermail mansion, and Relena was afraid that she actually might hang herself from the rafters. Then suddenly one day, she was gone and about a week later she returned with a tan Relena said she would kill to have."

Quatre smiled to himself as he thought of the afternoons on the beach when she had gotten that tan. 

"I thought you might have had something to do with it."

Quatre glanced at him. "Is there actually something you don't know?"

Heero shrugged. "I hadn't realized that Dorothy Catalonia's personal life would be worth researching."

Heero would just find out anyway, so Quatre told him. "I ran into Miss Dorothy in Barbados when I was there on a working vacation. We had a good time, and that was that."

"Except that she shut herself away in the Dermail mansion again for a few months. Then she started doing bizarre things, such as buying that quaint little house and puttering around in a rose garden."

"And feeding the birds in the park?" The elevator opened and Quatre followed Heero out into a quiet corridor. 

"That happened later, after she came back from Switzerland. I guess I know why now." 

Quatre paused to look at him. "Why what?"

"Why she suddenly changed her life. She returned from Switzerland just a few weeks after your marriage to Sadirah Al-Barak was publicized. I guess she was forced to let go of any feelings she may have had for you, because she was a different woman when she returned and I don't think it had anything to do with her mission for the Preventers."

Before they entered the office of Heero Yuy's superior, Quatre put his hand on Heero's arm. "How do you mean that she was different?"

"She was like a woman rebuilding her life from scratch, and that wasn't the woman I worked with in Switzerland. That woman was energetic and passionate about doing what she could to make the world safer. I should have insisted that she come back with me, but Dorothy stayed in Geneva for a few weeks then settled into one of her families chalets in the mountains. By the time I saw her again, her tan had faded."

Heero pushed open the door, ignored the greeting of the secretary and walked straight into the inner office. The middle-aged man sitting behind the desk immediately stood and came to greet Quatre by holding out his hand. Quatre didn't take it. "My name is Bill Morley, chief of covert operations."

"I wasn't aware that I had become an enemy of the Earth Sphere United Nation," he said calmly although he was coldly furious that these people would suspect him of financially supporting a military campaign.

The older man's heavy brows drew together and he cleared his throat after glancing at Heero. "You didn't give Dorothy a straight answer about your operations on X7350."

Although he knew that Dorothy would report on their conversation, Quatre still felt hurt that she had. "I thought I would tell you myself instead of passing the message through your rather persuasive go-between." He noticed a tightening of Heero's jaw, and that he shifted uncomfortably. Dorothy had denied any relationship with the former pilot of the Wing gundam, yet he was obviously disturbed by Quatre's reference to her. So they had worked together in Switzerland? How much of Dorothy's tan had he seen?

Bill Morley cleared his throat again. "One of my operatives reported that you have a facility on the resource satellite that has been refurbished to produce mobile suits. He was in the process of transmitting blueprints when he was killed."

Quatre frowned as he considered the satellite. Several months ago he had approved the building of a shuttle construction factory although he had told Sadirah's father that he didn't see a reason to enter into that highly competitive market. But Hassan had assured him that a group of engineers had approached him with a project to build safer and faster shuttles, and after studying the proposal, Quatre had reluctantly agreed to finance it. Before coming to Earth, he had toured the nearly complete facility and had been impressed with the state of the art design. 

He shook his head. "I don't know why your operative was killed, but it could not have been because of any nefarious activity on X7350." Glancing at the desk he noted the computer. "If you do not mind, I would use your computer to access my files."

"I would appreciate it if you would put our minds at ease." Morley laughed nervously as Quatre settled before the computer and entered the complex code to access the Winner Enterprises files. 

Quatre found the file for X7350, called up the factory blueprint in addition to the proposals and contracts which he printed for them to study at their leisure. Heero watched him skeptically, so Quatre suspected that he still didn't trust him. Because they had once been friends, his distrust was unsettling. 

He handed the papers to Morley. "If you see something out of the ordinary, you may contact me, but I doubt you will. Now, if you have all the information you need, I have work at my office. Next time, don't send Dorothy Catalonia to get answers to your questions."

Morley rubbed his neck nervously and Quatre noticed that his face had turned red. Heero stood silently staring at him. "Well, I am sorry about that, but we didn't really know what side of the fence you are on."

"There is no fence," Quatre told him. "There are outsiders who would like L4 to operate on the same principals of equality and democracy as the other colonies, but those ideals have no place in our culture. We prefer a firm ruler who will not tolerate the social abuses spawned by so-called freedom. The men who spread rumors of oppression are those who do not accept the heavy taxation Mahmad Al-Jazar has levied on the wealthy so that the poorer people may have food on their tables. These men planned a coup almost a year ago to remove Al-Jazar, and since its failure they have schemed in the shadows."

"You are implying that our agents have been duped by dissidents," said Heero skeptically.

"Duped or paid handsomely to misinform the Earth Sphere United Nation. But you can believe me when I tell you that Al-Jazar is not planning any military action in space, not with the current social and economic instability on L4. There will be civil war there if the Earth Sphere United Nation chooses to support his opposition." 

"You have certainly shed new light on what is happening on L4. The culture there is quite different from what we are accustomed to dealing with," said Morley when he had finished. 

"I hope that you will investigate further before the Earth Sphere United Nation takes any action." Quatre started to leave, but Heero stopped him.

"Before you leave, there is one other matter we must discuss."

Quatre raised a brow.

"I am speaking of the murder of Atifah Al-Shabat."

Because Quatre hadn't had the opportunity to discuss the matter with his men, he didn't want to do so with Heero, especially after Rashid's revelations. Quatre was very much aware now that there were factions among the men responsible for his safety, and that was something he needed to take care of before it proved to be a problem.

"I have no information for you," he told Heero.

"I have information for you. The morning of his death, Khalid bin Fayez received a substantial amount of money."

Khalid had been paid? Quatre did not allow Heero to see that he was surprised by the information. Rashid had implied that Khalid was attempting to kill Dorothy out of some sense of loyalty to Sadirah, but now Quatre wondered what his true motives were. Had Dorothy been the target or had Atifah? And why would he kill Atifah?

"Are you not curious to discover where the money came from?"

Quatre raised a brow. "Any trail you uncovered in your computer search was probably deliberately created."

"So it may have been, but I thought you should know that your men may be purchased, even by weasels like Randolph Morrison."

He shouldn't have been surprised, but Quatre was. Morrison had been the original suspect in the shooting, and he did have a clear motive for wanting Dorothy dead. Atifah had been an innocent bystander after all.

"We questioned Morrison thoroughly. He has absolutely no knowledge of the transaction, but then his financial records are quite easy to access as Dorothy could tell you," commented Morley. "I don't think the man is lying about his ignorance. He told me that he planned to ruin Dorothy socially."

Heero snorted derisively. "The Duchess Dermail doesn't give a rat's ass about her social standing. Morrison is nothing more than a petty thief."

The amount he had filched from Dorothy's accounts wasn't petty. Just to give himself some satisfaction, Quatre thought about sending Rashid to arrange for a visit between him and Morrison. He could think of some very gratifying ways to teach him a lesson that Morrison would not soon forget about taking advantage of the trust his clients put in him.

Heero accompanied him to the elevator. "Dorothy and I are friends," he told him to alleviate the stressed silence between them. "I think she has been through a lot that none of us really knows about, and she has desperately tried to put her family's past behind her by doing anything she can to help the Earth Sphere United Nation work. I won't stand by and watch her get hurt, not by Morrison, and not by you."

"She is the last person I would intentionally hurt."

"Intentional. Unintentional. The pain isn't any less, is it?" Heero pressed the button to the elevator to close the door, then walked away.

Quatre didn't speak to Rashid when he met him in the lobby, and they maintained their silence on the way to office building where he met Barak. Although he thought he should tell his business manager about the investigation by the Preventers, Quatre decided to keep it to himself. However, Barak brought up the situation on L4, again pointing out the sound financial decision to close operations on L4 until the political situation was resolved. He didn't let Quatre argue for the plight of the workers.

"We have many openings for them on X7350," he pointed out. "They could relocate there with their families until the crisis has passed, and any who wish to stay may do so."

The solution to the problem was ideal.

Too ideal.

Quatre didn't commit to the plan although he told Barak that he would give it more thought. By the time he left for the day, it was well into the evening and he had missed supper. His head was pounding from the tension he felt while in the presence of Sadirah's father after spending the better part of the afternoon with another woman. His heart ached because he was afraid that Dorothy wouldn't see him again and he knew it was unfair to expect her to ignore the fact that he was married to another woman.

When the reached the hotel, Quatre dreaded returning to his suite, knowing that Sadirah would make a pathetic attempt to seduce him which would end in an ugly scene that his men would hear about or even witness. He would have to worry about a knife in the back from the very men who should be guarding him.

Once in the elevator, Rashid asked, "What did you discuss with Heero Yuy and his people?"

Quatre explained the situation, leaving out the fact that Dorothy had slept with him in an attempt to get information. Rashid was obviously bothered that one of the men had taken a bribe to commit murder, so Quatre knew he could count on him to ferret out any other potential traitors. Heero's comments about Dorothy piqued Quatre's curiosity. He suddenly wanted to find out anything he could about what she had done after she left him in Barbados. So he asked Rashid to send a man to Switzerland to investigate. Quatre didn't know what he might discover, but Heero seemed bothered to not know what lay behind Dorothy's irrational behavior. Quatre would like the same answers.

Reaching into his pocket to take out a cigar, Quatre's fingers brushed the key card Dorothy had given him. The room was probably rented for a few days, and if not, at least until noon the following day. Quatre knew it was probably his only hope for a decent night's sleep, so he reached out to touch a button on the elevator to stop it at that floor. 

Rashid looked at him curiously, then said, "When will you return?"

Quatre shrugged and stepped out of the elevator. "I'll give you a call. Tell Jamila that I will see her in the morning." As the door closed, he felt a wave of guilt as he imagined his daughter's disappointment that he would not be there to kiss her goodnight. He almost changed his mind about staying away, and he even pushed the button for the elevator, but Quatre knew he couldn't deal with Sadirah. 

He was exhausted and thought he probably wouldn't even bother with room service. A good night's sleep was what he needed.

When he slipped the card into the lock and the door clicked open, Quatre realized that a light was on in the room. He wished he was carrying a weapon, and he knew the prudent course of action would be to leave, but Quatre stepped in the room.

She was standing by the window, just as she had been that afternoon, wringing her hands nervously. 

The emotion crashing through him, the joy at seeing her again, choked him up for a moment, and when he could speak he asked as calmly as he could, "What are you doing here, Miss Dorothy?"

Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "I couldn't stay away."


	10. Chapter 10

****

Chapter 10

Feeling decadent and not at all caring, Dorothy slept late, staying in bed long after Quatre left to take a shower. She had glanced at the clock, but closed her eyes again knowing that he was leaving early so that he could be back in his suite when Jamila awoke. 

Before he left, he sat on the edge of the bed, and feeling his eyes on her, Dorothy opened her own. "I'd rather you didn't look at me this early in the morning," she said sleepily. "It can't be a pretty sight."

He leaned forward to brush his lips over hers, which were tender from his kisses during the night. "You are beautiful any time of the day."

"You're a liar. My makeup is smeared and I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in a week." She reached up to sift her fingers through his wet hair, smoothing it back. Neither of them had been prepared to spend the night together, and so his hair was tangled from the shower. "How busy are you today?"

"I imagine I'll be busy researching X7350. Hassan suggested moving the workforce from L4 to the resource satellite."

Dorothy propped herself up on an elbow, tucking the sheet under her arms so that too much bare flesh wouldn't distract him. "Do you suspect him of having ties to those who want to disrupt al-Jazar's regime?"

For a moment Quatre looked away from her and she knew that he was uncomfortable with the exchange of information going on behind his back. Heero had paid her a visit after Quatre had left the Preventer offices. When he told her what Quatre had told Morley about the politics on L4, Dorothy had just as difficult a time believing it until Heero showed her the research he had done into the situation. He had even managed to uncover hidden accounts of two Preventer agents who were subsequently arrested for taking bribes and altering reports. Was Al-Jazar a dictator? There was no question that he was, but he seemed to be extending his protection to those that needed it most. That left the very wealthy and very powerful minority anxious to remove him before they were forced to share their power. Despite the fair wages Quatre demanded paid to his employees, Winner Enterprises was heavily taxed to raise money for the government to support social programs, but Quatre was apparently the sole supporter of Mahmad Al-Jazar among those of his class.

"I don't know what I will find out, but I have to research this project. Because of my marriage to Sadirah, Hassan has become a prominent figure on L4. I can only hope that he hasn't abused the privileges that have come his way."

Dorothy knew nothing about the man except that Quatre had placed a great deal of trust in him, which Barak had earned throughout the years working with both Quatre and his father before him.

"I'd like to have breakfast with you, but I can't." Quatre leaned forward to kiss her neck and take a deep breath. "You smell like roses, Dorothy, and something that I'll be thinking about all day. I won't be able to concentrate. What are you planning to do?"

She ran her finger along the line of his jaw, then traced his lips. "I'm going to lie abed waiting for you."

Quatre nipped at her finger, then stood. "Don't tempt me to stay."

She laughed softly and pulled down the pillow he had used and she wrapped her arms around it. "I'm going to sleep late, call in sick, then go home to pick up a few things."

He chuckled as he stood. "Call in sick for the week and then you won't need anything." Picking up the phone, he dialed a number, said something in Arabic, and then hung it up. "Rashid will be here in a few moments."

"Do you tire of all the security?" she asked. "It must be very bothersome to Jamila to be surrounded constantly by your men."

"They adore her, so she has them twisted around her little finger. And Jamila has some measure of freedom because she is not as recognizable as I am."

"Because you won't allow her to be photographed? That is a very good policy."

"One difficult to maintain." A soft knock at the door precluded any further discussion. "I will see you this evening."

Dorothy watched him leave, then drifted contentedly back to a dreamy sleep that was interrupted several hours later when the hotel maid knocked at the door. She apologized profusely for her intrusion, but Dorothy thanked her for waking her and told her she could return in about an hour. After taking a long, hot shower, Dorothy was just about finished dressing when another knock at the door interrupted her. Expecting the maid, she was surprised that room service was delivering a light breakfast, and she was touched to find a white lily lying across the tray. She tipped the young man who tried to flirt with her, then sat down to enjoy a pastry and cup of coffee. Her future might be filled with such mornings, sitting in a hotel room having breakfast alone, musing about the night she had spent with Quatre and looking forward to the next. Although Dorothy didn't want this kind of life, when he returned to L4, she knew that she would wish to have it back.

Leaving the room, she took the lily with her, and she was feeling rather euphoric as she rode the elevator down to the lobby. By the time the elevator reached the ground floor, Dorothy had mentally planned her instructions to the maid and what she would say to her superior to explain her absence at the morning meeting. Although she had told Quatre she would call in sick, Dorothy had some work to finish from the previous day that she didn't want to leave for anyone else. The trip home and back would delay her arrival at the office, but she couldn't very well show up wearing the same clothing that she had worn the day before. That meant she would have to stay later at work. She wouldn't be able see Quatre until after Jamila's bedtime anyway so she had to find some way to fill her time.

She was crossing the lobby to the front door when she heard her name called, and turning, she was annoyed to see Randolph Morrison headed in her direction. Both Quatre and Heero had told her about the payment Khalid bin Fayiz had received from Morrison, and while neither of them believed Morrison had actually paid to have her killed, Dorothy had her doubts. 

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," he remarked as his eyes swept over her, then returned to her face.

Dorothy shivered with revulsion and wondered what she had ever seen in him. "I was just returning to the office."

He raised his brow and his lip curled in a scornful smile. "An early lunch or a late breakfast?" His insinuation was quite clear, and Dorothy could not help the faint blush the warmed her cheeks.

"I have nothing to discuss with you." Dorothy tried to go past him, but he grabbed her wrist in a tight grasp.

"We have a lot to discuss, you bitch," he said through clenched teeth.

"Let go of me," she said in a low voice. "You are making a scene. I doubt that would be good for business."

"As good as the many visits the Preventer agents have made to my office? Taking my money wasn't good enough? You had to accuse me of attempting to murder you?" His bitter laughter drew attention to them. Dorothy glanced around nervously and noticed the elevator door opening, and stepping out was Rashid accompanying Sadirah Barak who was holding her daughter's hand.

Morrison followed her gaze, then remarked, "I guess I know why you're here wearing the same clothing you had on yesterday."

Dorothy looked back at him. "Are you spying on me?"

"I don't need to." He thrust a newspaper at her. "Not front page news, my dear, but I imagine when the press gets a hold of the information that you're fucking Quatre Winner, the story won't be buried in the society pages."

Dorothy opened the paper and was mortified to find on the society page a large picture of her standing with Jamila near the lion exhibit while Quatre stood nearby. Although the papers didn't identify the little girl on whose shoulder her hand rested in obvious affection, anyone that cared to make a connection would realize that she was the daughter of Quatre Raberba Winner. The caption was a blurb about her financial support of the zoo and the funding of a new exhibit. In all that had happened since then, Dorothy had forgotten about the large donation she had made before leaving the zoo the previous day. There was no credit given for the photograph, but by the professional quality, she suspected that one of the photographers she had taken to the zoo with her had made a little money on the side by supplying the photograph to the newspaper.

"Miss Dorothy!" 

Hearing Jamila's cry from across the lobby startled Dorothy into dropping the paper. As she turned to see Jamila avoid the restraining hand Rashid held out, she heard Morrison snidely remark, "This should be interesting."

Jamila reached Dorothy just a few feet ahead of her shame-faced bodyguard. She almost threw her arms around her, then with a sidelong glance at her tight-lipped mother approaching at a more dignified pace, she curtseyed and extended her gloved hand. "I am pleased to see you again, Miss Dorothy."

Dorothy took her hand and smiled at her although she was feeling very self-conscious with both Morrison and Quatre's wife watching her. "I am delighted to see you as well, Miss Jamila. However, I think you owe Rashid an apology for your very unladylike behavior just now."

As Jamila turned to speak to Rashid, Dorothy looked at Sadirah. "It is nice to see you again, Mrs. Winner."

Sadirah did not respond, but lifted her chin and turned deliberately away to greet Morrison. "I was hoping to see you again, Mr. Morrison. We have some business to discuss."

"Indeed we do. Are you free for lunch?"

"Unfortunately I have made plans to shop with my daughter."

Jamila tugging on her hand drew Dorothy's attention away. "Look, Miss Dorothy, I have the angel." She opened her little handbag and pulled the porcelain angel from inside. "She was just where I left her. But I will keep her with me from now on so that I do not worry about her."

"What do you have?" Sadirah's voice startled Jamila and she almost dropped the angel. She tried to hide it, but her mother held out her hand and Jamila had no choice but to place it in her palm.

"I gave it to her as a gift when I saw how she had admired it," lied Dorothy. Jamila's mother didn't need to know the real circumstances. Sadirah's hand seemed to be trembling as she stared at the object, and Dorothy noted that Jamila was watching her mother with white-faced fear. Rashid shifted nervously while Morrison watched with a malicious smirk. 

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Sadirah calmly handed the angel back to her daughter. "I hope you thanked Miss Catalonia for her generous gift."

Jamila sighed noisily with relief, then quickly hid the angel back in her handbag. "I did, Mama."

"If you are finished chatting with Miss Catalonia, then we shall be on our way."

Jamila curtseyed again, but this time she noticed the newspaper lying on the floor and she exclaimed with delight as she reached down to pick it up. "Look, Mama! Here is a picture of me in the newspaper! And here is Miss Catalonia and Papa!"

Rashid reached out to take the paper as Sadirah stared speechlessly, her face pink with humiliation. "We had better go, Missy Jamila."

Jamila was pouting. "I want the picture!"

Dorothy almost wished she were anywhere but here and didn't think the situation could get any worse. 

Jamila proved her wrong. "Oh! What a pretty flower! It is a lily. I know because it is my Papa's favorite flower."

"It is time to go!" snapped Sadirah, all patience gone. She seized Jamila by the wrist, and Dorothy did not miss the little girl's wince of pain. Dorothy would have taken a step after the woman pulling her daughter away, but Rashid put a restraining hand on her arm. 

"Do not interfere," he warned her in a low voice. "This is none of your concern."

Dorothy looked at him. "She is hurting her."

"She will not cause her any harm," he told her quietly. "But you cannot blame her for feeling as she does." Rashid released her, then headed after Sadirah and Jamila who had been joined by a handful of other guards, but he paused by Morrison. "I believe you have concluded your discussion with Miss Catalonia."

The smug smile faded from Morrison's lips as the threatening tone of Rashid's voice sunk in. He glared at Dorothy. "We will continue this at another time."

Rashid waited until Morrison left, then nodded to Dorothy and joined the group waiting for him in a limousine. 

Her emotions in turmoil, Dorothy headed to her office first intending to find the person responsible for the photograph in the paper. While the guard at the front desk greeted her with a smile and a friendly teasing comment about sleeping late, Dorothy received more than one furtive glance from the office staff when she reached the floor with her office. She saw Tracy James exit the public relations director's office, but her assistant looked away when she waved to her. 

Her superior stepped into the hall. "I see you are here. Come into my office, Miss Catalonia."

Dorothy glanced at Tracy as they passed in the hall, but she didn't say anything. She didn't even have a chance to sit when the director began to speak. "You must be aware by now about the picture in the paper."

"I had nothing to do with that," she said. "One of the staff photographers..."

"Which you took to the zoo with you yesterday," he added.

Dorothy stared at him incredulously. "You approved the assignment!"

He shifted, then cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, I cannot ignore the outcome of your actions."

"My actions?!"

He ignored her outburst. "I have just gotten off the phone with the wife of Quatre Winner. She is furious over the breach of security brought on by your careless actions. I'm afraid that I have no choice but to let you go."

"You are firing me?" Dorothy was shocked.

"There is little else I can do to prove our sincere apologies. Tracy James has done an admirable job as your assistant and since she already knows many of your duties, I have appointed her my new assistant." 

"So this is it?" Dorothy couldn't believe that after all the hard work she had put into her job that she was being treated so callously. 

The director sighed. "We both know that you do not need to work, and while I was reluctant to take you as my assistant given your past and your family's history, I was pleasantly surprised by your dedication. If you still feel a need to work, I will give Bob Morley a call. You know as well as I do that he would jump at the chance to get you on his staff."

In a daze, Dorothy walked to her office where she found Tracy waiting nervously. A cardboard box was on her desk for her to put her personal affects inside, but as Dorothy stared at her empty desk, she realized that she had nothing. No pictures of her family, no cards, nothing to prove that she had actually been here.

"I'm sorry," Tracy finally said.

Dorothy let out a breath and looked at her. "None of this is your fault. If I have to go, at least I can be glad that you are getting the recognition that you deserve. I could not have asked for a better assistant."

After handing in her keys and her security badge, Dorothy left the building for the last time. When she got into her car, she noted that the lily that she had left lying on the seat was wilted, and as she stared at it, the passenger door opened. Dorothy's heart leapt in fear, thinking of her recent confrontation with Morrison, but she was instantly relieved, then annoyed to see Heero Yuy.

"So you got canned," he remarked.

"I didn't need the job," she said. While she didn't need it financially, Dorothy had felt a sense of fulfillment working in some capacity for the Earth Sphere United Nation. Now she was beginning to feel depressed knowing that her only recourse would be to join the Preventers.

"Office politics are a bitch," said Heero.

"What office politics? I made a mistake, not the first of many."

Heero chuckled. "When I saw your picture in the paper, I knew you wouldn't be so careless, so I checked into it."

"Don't you have better things to do with your time?" Dorothy didn't like the fact that Heero was prying into her life.

He ignored her sarcastic remark. "What do you know about the photographer who snapped that happy little picture?"

"I don't even know the man's name. When I left for the zoo I requested a couple of staff photographers." Dorothy frowned at him. "What is your point?"

"The photographer's name isn't as important as who he sleeps with."

"Don't you think you dug a little too deeply into his life?" 

"Did you arrange for the photographers yourself?"

"My personal assistant, Tracy James, does those kinds of things." When Heero didn't say anything, his point became clear to Dorothy. "She set me up?"

"I suppose she was getting a little tired of standing in your shadow."

Dorothy wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. 

"Are you going to do anything about it?" he asked.

Now she did laugh. "What are you suggesting, Heero? Shall we let the air out of her tires or should we frame her for some crime and laugh as she rots in prison?"

Heero snorted. "I'd enjoy the latter, but I suspect you would have an attack of conscience. I liked you better when you didn't seem to have any scruples."

She started the car. "Thank you for brightening my day, Heero. I might have gone home only upset to lose my job, but now you've made me feel like a complete fool because I underestimated Tracy James."

"I'll let the air out of her tires." Heero opened the car door and stepped out, but before he closed it he leaned in and looked at her. "You might be interested to know that Quatre Winner sent one of his goons to Switzerland to check up on your activities there."

Dorothy stared after him as he walked away, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think. 

__

"I'm feeling a little sinful just lying around getting a tan." Dorothy turned on her side to look at Quatre who was lying beside her on a lounge chair. They were on a yacht, several miles out to sea where he hoped to avoid the pressing business matters that he had been ignoring for three days now. 

He flipped up his sunglasses to look at her. "The only sin around here is that you don't have enough lotion on you. I think you're getting a little pink."

Dorothy laughed. "You just put some on me a few minutes ago."

Quatre reached for the bottle of oil. "And I've been thinking about it ever since."

So had she, and she suspected that his thoughts were just as wicked as hers, but when he moved to put his hands on her bare flesh, she rolled away with a laugh and scrambled to her feet. "I really don't think that is necessary, Mr. Winner."

"Then you aren't being very observant, Miss Dorothy."

Passing her gaze over his body, she discovered what he was referring to and didn't suppress a giggle. He chuckled and lunged for her, but she darted away. Dorothy managed to stay out of his reach until a sudden sharp turn of the yacht made her lose her footing and fall into his arms. She suspected the captain of the yacht of purposely turning the vessel and was a little embarrassed to be seen frolicking in the nude with Quatre. Quatre picked her up and carried her below to his luxurious huge cabin where they stayed for the remainder of the day.

"This is like a dream," she murmured much later as she lay with her head on his chest. "I've never been so happy in my life."

Quatre's arm tightened around her and she felt his lips touch the top of her head. "Then let's not wake up."

Dorothy raised her head to look at his face, into his blue eyes. "If this is just a dream, then maybe it wouldn't hurt for me to say this. I love you."

Quatre smiled and caressed her cheek. "It wouldn't hurt to say it even if this weren't a dream."

She felt even happier with him knowing how she felt even though he hadn't returned the sentiment. In her heart, she knew that he felt the same by the way he looked at her, by the way he held her, by his tenderness when he made love to her. Dorothy didn't need to hear the words.

They dined on the yacht while the sun set and by the time the captain took them back to the port it was very late. Quatre escorted her off the yacht with his hand on the small of her back, so she felt him tense before she actually saw the man standing at the end of the dock waiting for him.

Quatre didn't have a chance to make an introduction before the older man began speaking Arabic, his tone irritated, then angry. When he gestured to Dorothy, she didn't need to understand the words to recognize an insult. Quatre's body jerked in response and Dorothy knew he clenched his fist, but he seemed to gain control of his anger because he said something calmly to other man. The other man raised a brow and looked at Dorothy again, this time assessing, and Dorothy wished she knew what Quatre had said to her. The man spoke words to her in a more controlled tone so she assumed that he was apologizing. She nodded her acknowledgment and was relieved to feel Quatre relax. 

The two men had a short exchange before Quatre led Dorothy to the car. On the way back to the beach house she asked him about the man at the pier.

"He is my business manager, Hassan Barak. He is not happy that I have left him to shoulder all the responsibility these last few days."

"I suppose he blames me," she concluded aloud.

"Let's just say he hasn't been happy with my behavior for a long time now. He was a friend of my father, and his disappointment is much the same as any my father might have felt."

Although he was still driving a bit too fast, at least he wasn't racing on the highway recklessly. "Maybe you should give Mr. Hassan some assistance."

"I have to sign contracts tomorrow." He gave an exasperated sigh. "So I'll have to read them tonight."

"Do what you have to do. I'm not going anywhere." Dorothy laughed. "I have no way of leaving anyway."

Quatre chuckled. "I'm a sneaky devil, aren't I?"

"Sweeping me away and trapping me at your secluded beach house until I surrendered to you? I'd say so."

"Aren't you afraid of me, knowing how devious I am?"

"That just makes you more exciting."

When they returned to the beach house, Dorothy went to her room while Quatre disappeared into his office where he would probably spend the night reading the contracts that Hassan Barak had left for him while they were on the yacht. She didn't know anything about his business proposal except that Quatre didn't seem to like the terms. The day had been exhausting, so she didn't have any trouble falling asleep without Quatre holding her. Sometime during the night, he slipped into the bed with her, but he did nothing more than pull her into his arms and kiss her before allowing her to sleep again.

They had breakfast together in the morning, but while Dorothy wore her bathing suit so that she could swim after breakfast, Quatre was dressed in a business suit that made him appear distant. He seemed distracted, so she didn't try to make conversation. 

Finishing, he tossed down his napkin and stood. "Well, Miss Dorothy, I guess the dream is over. I have to wake up."

She smiled at him. "I'll still be dreaming when you get back."

He didn't return the smile. "I've never once been able to recapture a dream."

Dorothy watched him leave with a perplexed frown. A few moments later she heard the tires of his car screech as he pulled away form the beach house. Through out the day, she tried to make sense of what he had said, but she couldn't, so she resolved to ask him when he returned. A candlelit dinner had been set for two, but Dorothy ate alone and noted that the servant seemed disconcerted to be waiting on only her because his eyes kept straying to the empty place at the table. If she thought he could understand her, she would make conversation, but Dorothy had only heard Quatre speak Arabic to him, so she doubted he understood her language.

Well after midnight, Dorothy decided to wait for him in bed, and although she resolved to stay awake, she fell asleep. A few hours later, she awoke to noises, and hearing what definitely sounded like a woman's giggle, she pulled a silk wrapper on and left the room to investigate. She found them stumbling around in the dark, Quatre who couldn't stand on his own, and the two women he had been with at the dance club supporting him between them.

"Oh no, we have company," the redhead said loudly.

Quatre moaned and tried to raise his head, but he had apparently taken something that was preventing him. Dorothy felt as if the bottom had dropped out of her world and she was falling from a very high place. She didn't need to stay and watch the women groping him to know that she wasn't wanted or needed. Turning on her heel, she marched back to her room. For a moment she stood staring in dark, hearing the giggling women, Quatre's low, groggy voice, and then nothing, as they must have gone into his room. There were so many emotions running through her that she didn't know which one to feel. So she decided not to feel anything.

Unable to sleep, unwilling to speak to Quatre Raberba Winner ever again, she made sure her things were packed, then she called the airport to send a car. By the time the sun was rising, she was on her way to catch a flight back home. Dorothy tried not to dwell on Quatre, but she couldn't help but be hurt by the games he had played. He had pretended to change in order to seduce her, and she had fallen for every trick. When he discovered her gone, he wouldn't be surprised. He had clearly told her that it was over, so Quatre obviously hadn't been expecting to find her waiting when he returned. 

After she received her ticket, Dorothy was relieved that she would be leaving Barbados within the hour because there was an empty place on the early flight out. As she was waiting, she noticed that Hassan Barak had arrived at the airport. After concluding his business at the ticket counter, he turned towards the concourse where she was waiting. Their eyes met, and he made his way to her where she was waiting to board the plane.

He inclined his head to her. "Miss Catalonia, I see that you are leaving."

"I have nothing to stay for." She was somewhat surprised he spoke her language, then somewhat insulted that he chose not to the evening that he met her on the pier.

Barak nodded. "We will be returning soon to L4 where Quatre has other obligations."

"Then you won't have to worry about my distracting him."

"I was afraid that you may have harbored some hope of a more lasting relationship with Quatre."

"None whatsoever." Dorothy would never admit that the contrary might be true.

"The truth is, his marriage to my daughter was arranged many years ago between his father and myself, so he is not free to commit elsewhere. He has known that for a very long time."

Dorothy didn't know what to say. She had no idea that Quatre was planning to marry another woman. Now she understood why Barak had been so angry when they met at the pier. 

The man continued without waiting for a response. "My daughter is a few years younger than him, and I understand that he has a man's needs. But she has come of age and when we return to L4, he will likely marry her and that will be an end to his wild behavior."

She had difficulty meeting his gaze. "I wish him well in his marriage."

Reading through his third technical report on the facility built on X7350, Quatre was starting to feel overwhelmed by the combination of lack of sleep and the excessive data that was swimming before his blurry eyes. He worked through the lunch hour, trying to find any shred of evidence to prove the allegations made by Bill Morley about the satellite, but he could find nothing. About to give up, he noticed an invoice for parts, and calling it up on his screen then printing it, he was just about to study the document when a short knock at the door preceded the entry of Hassan Barak.

"I heard that you were here." His dark eyes strayed to the paper Quatre had taken from the printer.

Quatre felt guilty about keeping his investigation secret. Maybe he wanted to prove that Hassan Barak was involved in illegal activities so that he could make a clean break from both him and his daughter. Then again, he had no reason to suspect Barak. True, they did not agree on every facet of the running of the conglomerate business, but Quatre hadn't seen eye to eye with his father either. 

"I have been doing some research." Quatre tucked away the invoice.

Barak's eyes were on the paper that Quatre had slid between other papers. "You must be very busy today. Sadirah has called this office several times and you have not answered, nor have you returned them."

Quatre looked down at the papers, purposely avoiding his eyes. Breakfast had been so strained that Jamila sat silently still as she ate. When Quatre tried to engage her in conversation, she looked to her mother first before responding to his questions with one word answers. Sadirah didn't bother hiding her anger although she said nothing to him, and when Jamila finished her meal and left with the nanny, Quatre took the opportunity to leave for work. If Sadirah had wanted to argue, he didn't give her a chance.

"I have been busy," Quatre told her father now.

Barak came to his desk and dropped a newspaper amongst the papers. The invoice slid off the desk and settled on the floor at Barak's feet. The man did no more than glance at it before nodding to the newspaper. "My daughter wished to discuss that picture with you."

Quatre turned his attention to the newspaper, and he caught his breath when he saw his daughter's image printed in a paper that sold millions of copies. "I...I was not aware..."

"You must realize that Miss Catalonia arranged for this to happen."

Staring at the picture of Dorothy smiling fondly at Jamila, her hand resting lightly on her shoulder, Quatre felt a tug on his heart. "She would never condone this."

"Did she arrange the opportunity?" demanded Barak. He put his hands on the desk and leaned toward Quatre. "The woman is spiteful and vindictive. Have you not heard that with her connections, she has made business very difficult for Randolph Morrison? Preventer agents have seized his financial records, and both his office and home have been searched thoroughly. It was a mistake to become involved with such a woman."

Quatre turned the paper face down so that the picture would not distract him. "If you will recall, Hassan, she left me. If anyone has a reason to seek some type of vengeance, it would be me." 

Barak didn't respond because he knew that Quatre was right. Had Quatre left Dorothy, then he might give some credit to Barak's concerns. But Quatre had awakened one morning in Barbados to find Dorothy gone from the bed they shared. She had taken the suitcases she had brought but left behind everything he had purchased for her. The previous day, after meeting with his business partners in Barbados and hammering out a deal that Quatre preferred which wouldn't displace many people to build a resort catering to wealthy visitors, he allowed Barak to talk him into dining with their business associates at a restaurant. Although Quatre had already planned to spend the evening with Dorothy, he didn't refuse.

But during the meal he began to feel dizzy and weak, so Barak offered to drive him home. He had scolded him for spending too much time in the sun, that he was probably suffering from heat stroke. Quatre must have passed out because he didn't remember arriving at the beach house or getting in bed. He didn't come to his senses until the following morning when he found Dorothy gone. Barak brought a doctor to the beach house. The man subsequently prescribed rest and suggested that he stay out of the sun for the remainder of his vacation, pointing out that he was unused to the lack of filtering of the sun's rays on Earth. 

A call to the airport confirmed that Dorothy left Barbados on the first flight out. Quatre called the Dermail mansion and left her messages, but she didn't return his calls. Days turned into weeks with no word from her and Quatre had to accept that Dorothy had somehow come to a decision that her future did not include him. He had a hard time reconciling the woman who spoke words of love to him with the woman who had left him without a word and refused to give him an explanation. Quatre wanted to ask her why she had left him, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear her answer.

"The public relations director has promised to punish those involved," Barak was saying.

That meant that Dorothy was probably going to lose her job. Quatre had nothing more to say on the subject. Sadirah was going to get her satisfaction.

"My daughter told me that you did not return last night."

Quatre didn't meet his gaze. "I did not."

Barak waited for him to say more.

Quatre decided to clear the air. "You must know that Sadirah and I have had some difficulties in our personal relationship."

"Sadirah is very young," explained her father. "Perhaps she had a child and married too young, but if you give her a chance..."

Shaking his head, Quatre looked at Barak. "I don't love Sadirah. I can't imagine spending any more time with her when I love another. You have known all along how I felt about Dorothy Catalonia. I told you in Barbados that I was going to marry her. I don't know why she left me, but my feelings for her haven't changed. I have reason to believe that she feels the same for me."

"She could be toying with you again," pointed out Barak impatiently.

Quatre ignored his remark. "Sadirah doesn't love me, and I don't think she loves my daughter, but I can't in good conscience continue this marriage."

"You will divorce my daughter?" Barak was aghast.

"I will allow her to divorce me, and she may set whatever financial terms she wishes. As far as you are concerned, you will continue on in the same capacity unless you do not feel comfortable working with me." Quatre wasn't sure he wanted Sadirah's father to remain in his position, especially when he was beginning to suspect that Hassan Barak was using the Winner fortune to increase his own power on L4.

"When do you intend to act?" asked Barak. "Will you be discussing this with Sadirah, or will you send an attorney?"

Quatre couldn't imagine doing anything so heartless as sending an attorney to tell Sadirah that she had no choice but to file for a divorce. "I will discuss this with her when I return tonight."

"You will marry Dorothy Catalonia?" Barak picked up the paper that had fallen on the floor. "Maybe you should question her about the operations on X7350."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Randolph Morrison informed me that Miss Catalonia has been supplying Mahmad Al-Jazar with the funding and the technical information to build an army of mobile dolls."

"That is not true!" scoffed Quatre.

"You are very quick to believe a woman who almost killed you, whose family earned its wealth by constructing instruments of war. Your father would be adamantly opposed to marrying such a woman. Can you ignore that? Can you forget that she was involved with the madmen who wished to destroy Earth?" Barak sighed and shook his head regretfully. "I don't want to see your heart broken again, Quatre. And with the political situation as it stands on L4, you have to be very careful with your alliances, both business and personal."

"Am I going to have to tell you to stay out of my life?" asked Quatre with a raised brow.

Barak met his gaze for a moment, and Quatre saw an uncharacteristic spark of defiance, but it quickly disappeared as he lowered his head. "I am sorry that my daughter has displeased you."

"We were not meant to be together. I regret that Jamila will be caught in the middle."

"Indeed." Barak walked out and Quatre noted that he had taken the invoice with him.

Turning his attention back to the computer to print another copy, he was perplexed to find that the system had crashed during his conversation with Sadirah's father. Glancing at the closed door, he considered just how convenient it was. 

The problem with the computer extended beyond Quatre's computer into a company wide server problem. With nothing better to do with his time, he decided to return to the hotel suite where he would have the discussion with Sadirah. He wasn't exactly sure how she would handle the news, but considering her lack of real affection for him, he didn't think her heart would be broken. And because he was offering her a blank check to leave him, any suffering would be quickly soothed. Perhaps she would be relieved to see an end to the marriage she didn't seem to want either. As beautiful as she was, she would have no trouble finding a man to replace him if that is what she really wanted.

Entering the hotel lobby, Quatre was instantly aware of a problem when he saw many of his men searching frantically behind furniture, plants, under tables. He might have found it amusing had they not viewed him with white-faced terror. Then he noticed Rashid standing with Heero Yuy and several men wearing Preventer uniforms. Quatre stood rooted to the spot, finding it impossible to move as a premonition swept over him. 

Then he heard Sadirah wail and she ran to him and pounded her fists on his chest. "Where have you been?! Why have you not returned my calls?"

Quatre grabbed her wrists and forced her back. "What is happening?" But he knew what was wrong even before he saw the sobbing hotel nanny speaking to the authorities. 

Sadirah raised her tear-stained face to him. "She is gone! Jamila is gone! Someone has taken her!"


	11. Chapter 11

****

Chapter 11

As she worked in the rose garden behind her house Dorothy tried to relax and take her mind off her problems, but she couldn't concentrate on the blooming flowers. After returning to her house, she had sent the maid home early, changed into jeans and sweatshirt and started digging around in the dirt. She could not completely keep her mind off of the chaotic events of the last few days. How long had it been since Quatre Winner had blown into her life again like a tropical storm? Not even a week and he had already made a complete mess of her life! Granted, she did have to accept some responsibility for walking around with her head in the clouds, blind to the machinations taking place under her very nose. Maybe Dorothy didn't want to recognize the true character of Randolph Morrison, and maybe she deliberately closed her eyes to Tracy James' ambitions in the office. She hadn't been dissatisfied with her life.

Despite everything that had happened to her, she was still naïve, still the little girl who couldn't do anything right in her mother's eyes simply because she wasn't the male heir who could carry on the traditions of the Dermail family. She had failed to uphold their policies in the war, had betrayed the Romefeller Foundation, and had subsequently been reduced now to losing her own job to a backstabbing office assistant. How much lower could she possibly sink? Dorothy wondered if Heero actually let the air out of the tires of her former assistant, and the image of him doing so made her smile.

However his warning before he left made her now prick her thumb on a sharp thorn. Why would Quatre send someone to Switzerland to check up on her? What did he think he would find? Dorothy was confident that there was nothing he could discover about those months in Switzerland. She had little contact with anyone but her few servants and they would not discuss her with strangers no matter how persuasive. If Heero hadn't been able to discover the nature of her self-imposed exile in the Alps, then she was reasonably sure that any man Quatre sent to investigate her would return without any revelations. Dorothy suspected Heero of putting Quatre on her trail, yet she didn't know what he hoped to gain. If Heero's idea of friendship was this constant spying and prying into her life, then she could do without it.

Hearing the gate security buzz, Dorothy reluctantly left the garden. She had been considering finding something to eat in the kitchen, hoping that the maid had prepared a meal before leaving, so the arrival of a visitor put a welcome end to her gardening. 

Pulling off her gloves, she pressed the button to the security intercom. She peeked out the window and saw a police car on the street outside her house, and she let out a sigh of relief that Morrison hadn't dropped by to continue harassing her. "Can I help you?" she asked the officers.

"This is the police, Miss Catalonia. May we come in to speak to you?"

Great! Heero vandalized Tracy James' car and now she was going to get the blame! Sighing, the pressed the button to open the gate, then went to the door. She was surprised to see the officers approaching with Jamila Winner between them.

Before she could say anything, Jamila cried, "Mama!" and she ran to Dorothy and threw her arms around her legs.

Dorothy was so shocked that she couldn't speak. 

The officers came to stand before her. "We found the little girl on the streets downtown. Apparently she became separated from her nanny, and when we questioned her, she gave us your name."

Dorothy looked down at Jamila. The little girl was looking up at her, eyes wide and pleading. Dorothy noticed that a side of her face was swelling and one of her eyes appeared to be puffy. Dropping down to her level, Dorothy pulled Jamila into her arms and felt that she was trembling.

Over her little blond head, Dorothy looked at the police officers. "I didn't even know she was missing!" Dorothy looked at Jamila. "Nanny must be very worried about you!"

One of the officers remarked, "Ma'am, I don't think I would keep a nanny like that in my employ."

"You are quite right. If the woman returns, I will immediately inform her that her services are no longer required. I shudder to think what could have happened to my little girl!" She hugged Jamila again, and the girl clung to her, her fingers digging into Dorothy in desperation. "I don't know how I can thank you, officers."

"Just doing our duty, ma'am." They tipped their hats to her, then left. 

Dorothy didn't say anything until she was inside the house with her young guest and she had reset the security. Once she was sure they would be safe, she drew Jamila over to the sofa. Jamila was still trembling, and glancing down, Dorothy saw that her wrist where Sadirah had held her was dark purple. Knowing now where Jamila received her abuse, Dorothy was choked up with anger against Sadirah Barak. But she didn't say anything as she pulled Jamila onto her lap and held her in her arms, rocking her as the child burst into uncontrollable sobbing. 

After a moment, Jamila drew away, tears still rolling down her cheeks, and she fumbled with her handbag, and when she had pulled open the drawstring, Dorothy was horrified to see the angel she had given her fall out in several pieces.

"Mama did it!" blurted Jamila between gasping sobs. When Jamila put her hand to her cheek, Dorothy received such a horrible vision of Sadirah hitting her with the handbag that she was speechlessly appalled. 

"Mama hates me!"

Although the evidence seemed to back up her claim, Dorothy couldn't let Jamila think that her own mother hated her. Jamila's entire world consisted of her mother and father, even if her mother abused her and her father apparently preferred to remain oblivious to his wife's faults. Dorothy realized that Sadirah had likely been infuriated to be so publicly confronted by her husband's infidelity in the hotel lobby, so Dorothy felt partially responsible for the rage that must have prompted Sadirah to beat Jamila. But that didn't excuse her cruelty to the daughter that loved her unconditionally. Despite everything that Sadirah had done to her, Jamila loved her mother.

"Your mother doesn't hate you, Jamila."

"She does! She called me a bastard! I asked nanny Maria what it is, and she said it is someone who doesn't have a father! I have a Papa! Why does Mama say mean things to me? Why does she hurt me?" Jamila's words stumbled out, one after another until she hid her face in Dorothy's bosom and shook with uncontrollable sobs. 

Dorothy didn't have any answers for Jamila. All she knew about Jamila was what Quatre had told her, that her birth had been an accident. As incomprehensible as it seemed, Sadirah resented Jamila for it, and she couldn't understand why, when Sadirah had gained so much from giving Quatre Winner a child. 

When Jamila's tears had subsided to hiccups, Dorothy took her into the kitchen where she gently washed her face and put a cold compress on her swelling cheek. A thorough search of the kitchen yielded a boxed pasta dinner and a jar of cookies that seemed fresh, so she gave Jamila some cookies then concentrated on preparing a meal for them. By the time Dorothy had added the pasta to the boiling water, Jamila seemed to have forgotten her problems because she was swinging her legs as she sat on the chair, humming a snippet of Mozart over and over as looked curiously around the room.

"Did you run away?" Dorothy asked Jamila as she stirred the cooking spaghetti.

Jamila nodded. "I sneaked out of the play yard at the hotel while nanny Maria was talking to a man."

A hotel nanny was going to lose her job over this, thought Dorothy. "Where was Rashid?"

"He stayed to talk to Mama. He was very angry."

Nothing gave Dorothy greater pleasure than imagining the giant Rashid giving Sadirah the punishment she deserved. No, that wasn't true, she thought as she dished up the pasta and sat at the table. Dorothy would be quite pleased to give Sadirah Barak the beating that Quatre Winner was too kindhearted to administer.

Jamila seemed puzzled by the spaghetti at first, but when she watched how Dorothy ate it, she mimicked her and Dorothy could tell that she was very hungry so she ate sparingly in order for Jamila to have her fill. As Dorothy was cleaning off the table, Jamila darted around the kitchen exploring it as if it were unknown territory. Dorothy realized that Jamila probably hadn't been in a kitchen before, and she had memories of her own childhood and how she was shuttled from the nursery, to the playroom, the garden, the salon and never once having contact with a servant other than her brutish nanny. Soon enough Jamila had the pots and pans scattered across the floor and she would have hauled out an antique silver tea service that she discovered before Dorothy put a stop to her activities.

"You haven't seen my roses," she told Jamila to distract her, and taking her hand, she lead her to the garden. 

Characteristic of one her age, she soon forgot the fun she was having in the kitchen when she saw the white and yellow roses that Dorothy grew. Although she was expecting that Jamila might be too rough with some of them and prepared to see her precious flowers fall victim to Jamila's exuberance, she was surprised that Jamila was very gentle as she touched them. Watching Jamila lean forward to smell one of the blooms, Dorothy realized how much she looked like her father and didn't seem to have any of her mother's features. 

Being reminded of Quatre, she glanced at her watch and saw that it was getting late. Dorothy had planned to be with him by this time, but she guessed that Quatre had probably discovered his daughter missing by now and was frantic with worry. She allowed Jamila to choose her favorite rose so that she could cut it for her, but Jamila didn't want any of them to be harmed, so she picked one to adopt and Dorothy allowed her to spray it with some water before they went inside.

When they went back into the living room, Dorothy settled her on the couch, and picking up the phone, she was dug into her purse to find the key card for the room at the hotel so that she could take the number of the hotel.

Before Dorothy could dial more than a few numbers, Jamila grabbed her hand. "Don't call my Mama! She will be very angry at me again!"

Dorothy set aside the phone. "Your Papa must be worried about you Jamila."

Jamila looked down at her hands. "Mama said that Papa doesn't want me. She told me that he is going away and he will not want to see me ever again." Her teary eyes met Dorothy's. "Mama said that you are taking him away from us."

Dorothy felt as if her heart were being squeezed. She reached out to take Jamila's hands in her own. "That isn't true, Jamila. I would never take your Papa away from you. I know how much he loves you. Will you let me call him now so that he knows you are safe?"

"Can I please stay here tonight?" Jamila's eyes were wide with pleading.

There was no doubt in Dorothy's mind that Jamila was terrified of returning to her mother. After what Jamila had just revealed, Sadirah would be even more furious to learn that Jamila had run away to be with her husband's lover. Against her better judgment, she gave in. "Then we must call your Papa immediately in the morning to tell him that you are all right."

Jamila nodded, then she leaned forward to hug Dorothy. Dorothy was moved deeply when Jamila kissed her cheek and rested her head on her shoulder. "I like you very much, Miss Dorothy."

Dorothy adored Jamila too much to put into words. There was no forgiveness in her heart for what Sadirah had done to terrorize the innocent child. If Quatre didn't do something about her, then she would. Or at least she could ask Heero Yuy to find someone who could put the fear of God into Sadirah Barak.

Jamila picked up her handbag, and taking out the pieces of the angel, she spread them out upon the coffee table in front of the couch. "Can we put her back together again?"

As she stared at the broken porcelain figure, Dorothy couldn't stop the emotion that broke through a floodgate she had erected on her heart. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped among the pieces. The angel could never be fixed. She was gone forever.

_When Dorothy arrived back home, the chauffeur was waiting for her at the airport. Beyond a lifting of his brow, he did not remark upon her unexplained absence before putting her suitcases in the trunk and opening the door for her. He drove her back to the mansion without speaking, as was his custom and in the past Dorothy had not been bothered by the distance between her and the servants. But as she sat in the back seat of the limousine, she realized that the servants were the only people in her life and she did not even interact with them. Dorothy didn't even know the chauffeur's name although he had driven cars for her since she was a child._

For over a week, she stayed at the mansion, most of the time in her room, claiming to be sick when all she wanted was to have time to herself to recover from the worst mistake she had made in her life. The debacle in Barbados even seemed worse than her incomprehensible escapade with the White Fang. At least she could explain that away by her militaristic upbringing. How could she explain what she had allowed to happen to her in Barbados? How could she have been so stupid as to trust the man she had tried to kill during the war? Anyone with any common sense would have been leery of his intentions. But she had willingly become the victim of his revenge. Quatre Winner would probably laugh about her gullibility all the way back to L4.

As if he hadn't had enough, he called the mansion several times, and each time Dorothy refused to take the call. She had nothing to say to him. If he had an attack of conscience, she didn't want to hear his apologies. If he was going to rub salt into the wound he had made in her heart, then she didn't want that either. Quatre Winner was part of a past that she wanted nothing more to do with. He had taught her a valuable lesson about opening herself up, and she would never do it again. The pain she felt wasn't worth any of the joy.

After she had been back a few days, she received a visit from Relena Peacecraft. Relena tried unsuccessfully to get Dorothy to tell her where she had disappeared to, even attempting to guess based on her tan. Dorothy didn't trust Relena's intentions, not after her experience with Quatre, so she didn't divulge any useful information. Disappointed by Dorothy's lack of civility, Relena finally left her to her depression, vowing to visit her again soon. Fortunately for Dorothy, the Vice Foreign Minister was called to one of the colonies, so Dorothy was going to be spared that visit for some time. She would rather not be tempted into confiding in Relena because she wanted to keep her foolish mistake to herself. 

Although she tried not to dwell on the experience, she had little choice when her dreams were filled with memories of her days and nights with Quatre, or worse, fantasies of a future that included him. She started to feel so miserable that she lost her appetite and when she did eat, she couldn't hold her food down. She lost weight, spent whole days in bed and fought a losing battle with mood swings. After two months of such misery, the housekeeper finally sent for a doctor, explaining to Dorothy that the staff was afraid for her health. 

Dorothy stirred herself enough to shower and make herself presentable when the man arrived. She knew she still looked dreadful, having lost her tan and now looking as pale as a ghost. Dr. Carstairs was the housekeeper's physician, and Dorothy was glad the dour old man usually employed by her family for generations was not doddering over her because she could not imagine disclosing anything personal to him. Jovial Dr. Carstairs was very friendly as he asked her questions about her health, but Dorothy wished he would just prescribe some happy pills for her and go away. 

When the maid served coffee, Dorothy wrinkled her nose in distaste and her stomach rolled violently. Dr. Carstairs was delighted with the eclairs the maid served, and watching him take a bite of the pastry, Dorothy had to excuse herself, and she barely made it to a bathroom before she had the worst fit of retching of her life. She was shaking uncontrollably from the episode and planned to go straight to bed after she left the bathroom.

But the doctor was waiting for her in the hall. "Are you feeling ill, Miss Catalonia?"

He seemed to be amused by what she considered an absolutely asinine question. "I'm sorry to cut this short, doctor, but I need to lie down."

"Completely understandable. Let me escort you to your room. Your housekeeper, Mrs. Smythe, tells me that you have been sleeping quite a bit."

"I had a bad experience, doctor." Dorothy didn't really want to discuss it with him as they walked up the grand staircase with generations of Dermail ancestors staring down at her from the portraits on the wall. "I have been depressed about it. Perhaps you could prescribe something to make me feel better."

"I'm not sure that is a good idea. You haven't had much of an appetite? You appear to have lost weight."

Her clothing was very loose on her. "I have been feeling nauseous." They stopped before her bedroom door, and the doctor opened it and nodded for her to enter. "You aren't planning to give me an exam, are you? I don't really feel up to it." Dorothy wouldn't be able to stand him touching her. She would probably be sick again.

"I don't think I need to give you a physical examination." He closed the door behind them. "You aren't married? May I ask if there is a special someone in your life?"

"I am not lovesick, doctor, if that is what you are driving at."

His laughter sounded more like a snort, and Dorothy almost smiled. "You aren't very forthcoming, Miss Catalonia. I guess I will get to the point then. When is the last time you experienced your monthly cycle?"

A week before she went to Barbados. Dorothy opened her mouth to tell him, then realized that it had been two months ago. Two months! She suddenly felt very light-headed, and thought it odd that the room tipped around her before knocking her off her feet. The doctor caught her before she fell, and he carried her to the bed. For several minutes she felt dizzy and disoriented, but she eventually resumed what passed for her composure these days.

The doctor brought her a glass of water.

Dorothy's hand was shaking as she took a sip, but she didn't spill any as she set aside the glass. She looked at the doctor. He was smiling kindly at her. "I…I haven't had any problem with my cycle." Dorothy couldn't help lying. She didn't know if he could be trusted. What would happen if he left the mansion and blabbed her secrets to the press? How could she ever live with this? She had already shamed her heritage by her behavior in space. She would be completely ruined if word leaked out that she was…was…pregnant.

Her stomach wrenched again. Dorothy barely managed to swallow the watery bile.

The doctor patted her hands. "Well, I guess my diagnosis is that you are, indeed, suffering from some type of depression." He turned, reached into his bag and set a small box on her bedside. "You may wish to make use of that. You need not get back to me. I certainly understand, but I do caution you to take care of yourself. Your appetite should be returning soon, and I would recommend a healthy diet and plenty of rest until your energy returns. When that happens, you should get out in the sun a bit and get some exercise. You look like a ghost."

Dorothy looked at the box he had left and saw that it was a home pregnancy test. When her eyes met his, he looked strangely blurry.

"These things have a way of working themselves out," he told her kindly. "You need not worry about my discretion. I didn't really find anything unusual wrong with you."

She managed to thank the doctor, and after he left, she lay with her head on the pillow staring at the box for hours. Dorothy could not believe this was happening to her! Such things only happened to careless, uneducated women, certainly not to the granddaughter of the Duke Dermail, and the daughter of General Catalonia! 

Convinced that the doctor was wrong, that she was merely depressed, Dorothy finally grabbed the test and headed to the bathroom. Although her hands were shaking, she ripped through the packaging, then followed the instructions to the letter. At the end of the two-minute test, she stared at the result so intensely that her eyes watered. Finally her knees buckled and she sat on the floor of the bathroom clutching the test strip in her hand. 

Drawing up her legs, she hugged them as she rocked herself and wept.

After a thorough search of the hotel had been completed and there was no sign of Jamila, Quatre returned to his suite, which had now become a Preventer base of operations. Sadirah was so overwrought that she shut herself away in her room until her father arrived to comfort her. Quatre felt as if he were in a nightmare from which he would awake to find Jamila bouncing on the end of his bed. Now he was terrified to think of what her fate might be. Although she was most likely abducted for a ransom, Quatre couldn't ignore the possibility that some deranged predator had taken her. 

The hotel nanny was mortified by what had happened while she was supposed to be watching Jamila in the hotel play yard. Maria Montero explained that she had been doing just that until a man had engaged her in conversation and she was ashamed to admit that she lost sight of Jamila. Quatre's men were equally apologetic for allowing his daughter to slip out of the play yard unseen. Quatre hadn't even had an opportunity to speak to Rashid because he left with Heero Yuy shortly after Quatre arrived. 

The Preventer officers wanted to distribute Jamila's picture to the media so that anyone who had any information about her could contact them. Quatre was adamantly opposed. If by some miracle Jamila were only hiding from them, then they would be doing a great deal of harm by unnecessarily exposing her identity. Although her picture had appeared in the paper that day, she had not been identified, so unless someone were trying to make a connection between him and the little girl in the photograph, Jamila's anonymity was still safe. If anything, one might conclude that Jamila was actually Dorothy's daughter. But if the authorities publicized her disappearance, there were enough greedy, dangerous people who wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of her if they knew she was.

The wait for any news was maddening to Quatre. He thought about calling Dorothy to explain why he wouldn't be meeting her, but even thinking about Dorothy when Jamila was missing made him feel guilty. Sadirah was watching him with ill-concealed contempt. At least her father was discussing the situation with the Preventer agents assigned to the hotel suite. Beyond her initial histrionics, Sadirah showed little emotion over her daughter's disappearance. Quatre wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled, and yes, maybe even hard enough to snap her slender neck.

Disgusted by his violent thoughts, he stepped out to the terrace to smoke, and he was aggravated to notice that Barak nodded to his daughter. She dutifully followed him. 

Quatre ignored her for as long as he possibly could before her silent stare began to unnerve him. "What do you want?" he asked, refusing to look back at her but continuing to look out over the city where his daughter was lost or being held a prisoner.

When she laid her hand on his shoulder, he shuddered and resisted the urge to shrug her off and step away. "I'm sure they will find her and she will be safe."

Turning, he looked down into her dark eyes. "Do you care, Sadirah?"

"Of course I care! She is my daughter too!" Her eyes brimmed with tears. 

Sighing, Quatre tossed aside his cigar and put his arms around her, drawing her head against his shoulder. "The Preventers are doing everything they can to find her."

Sadirah slid her arms around his neck, but when she tried to pull his head down for a kiss, he purposely avoided her lips. Her body stiffened, and she stepped back from him. The tears had evaporated rather quickly, but then Quatre assumed that they would. "You are thinking about her!"

"I'm worried about Jamila," he said with annoyance as he lit another cigar.

Sadirah glared at him through the haze of smoke he blew between them. "I saw her today! That brazen whore was still here at lunch time!"

Quatre took a long draw from his cigar, and when he felt sufficiently calm, he responded. "I doubt she intended to run into you."

"Why not? I think she wanted to rub my face in the fact that you were with her last night under this very roof!" Sadirah was clenching her fists at her side. "How can you do this to me? I am your wife!"

"A position for which you have generously been rewarded."

She gasped in outrage. "I didn't ask for this! If you will recall, I was only sixteen years old when you married me, and only after I had given birth to Jamila!"

Quatre didn't like being reminded that he had taken advantage of a fifteen-year-old girl. "I can't do anything more to prove my deep remorse for what happened. You haven't given our marriage a chance; you haven't given Jamila any place in your heart."

"You don't understand what I suffered!" Sadirah started to pace, nervously wringing her hands. "I couldn't tell my father because he would blame me, and I dared not contact you for fear that you would accuse me of planning it all. You didn't even remember being with me!"

Quatre still didn't remember the event that brought Jamila into his life. "This is not the time for this discussion."

"Why not?" demanded Sadirah. "Father told me that you are going to ask me to divorce you!"

Quatre wondered when Barak had spoken to Sadirah. He had little doubt that he called his daughter immediately following their discussion at the office. "Neither of us are happy."

"I haven't been happy since that night! You can't imagine that humiliation I felt when I had to leave school because of the baby. All my hopes and dreams were destroyed! Do you think offering me money can make up for that?"

"Sadirah, you are young enough to make your hopes and dreams a reality."

"In what capacity? I will always be known only as your ex-wife! I don't want that!"

"You don't want to be with me either, and you certainly don't want Jamila. Tell me what you do want Sadirah, and maybe we can work something out."

Sadirah glared at him, nostrils flaring, her cheeks bright pink with anger. "Work something out? Do you think for one minute that I will let you have Jamila? She is all I have! How dare you think I am so shallow that I would trade her for money! You don't have enough to take my motherhood away from me. I'm the one who suffered the pain of bringing her into the world, alone and ashamed, and I will keep her to my dying breath."

Turning on her heel, she marched off the terrace, passing Rashid who was accompanied by Heero Yuy. Quatre massaged his temples for a moment, then turned his attention to Rashid. "I hope you have some news for me."

"I am sorry, Master Quatre, but I do not. Missy Jamila seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth."

"You don't think she was taken away on a shuttle?" Quatre envisioned supporters or opponents of Mahmad Al-Jazar abducting his daughter so that he would pay whatever they asked to return her. Such people would not be satisfied with a single payment, and a little girl's life meant nothing to them.

"We have already checked. No shuttles left Earth today and there are none scheduled for a few days. You can be sure that any will be thoroughly searched before take-off," explained Heero.

Quatre turned back to Rashid. "How could this happen? Where were you?"

Rashid didn't respond for a moment, and by his sidelong glance at Heero, he had something to say that he didn't want the Preventer agent to hear. Heero wasn't oblivious to their desire to speak privately. He simply didn't wish to give them the chance. 

Suddenly a phone began to ring, and Heero frowned as he pulled out his cellular phone. He had no choice but to give them some privacy so he could take his call. 

When Heero had stepped away several feet to talk on the phone, Rashid said in a low voice, "Missy Jamila had an accident today."

"Accident?" Quatre was alarmed.

"The kind of accident that should have ended when Atifah left."

Throwing down his cigar, Quatre started to head into the apartment, his body stiff and cold with fury, but Rashid seized his arm. "Let me go, Rashid. I warned her."

"This is something we will have to deal with after we leave Earth."

Quatre knew that Rashid was right. A man beating his wife would not even raise a brow on L4. However, the authorities on Earth weren't as open-minded about spousal discipline. "When did this happen?"

"After we returned from her shopping trip. She took Jamila into her room to try on the clothing she purchased for her. I didn't hear anything, and when I saw her injuries, Sadirah told me that she had been clumsy and hit her face on a table when she fell while trying to get out of her clothing."

"You believed that bullshit?"

Rashid raised his brow. "She is not my wife to punish."

By his tone, he had inferred that Quatre should have taken care of the situation long ago. But he had purposely put on blinders because of the guilt he felt for causing Sadirah's unhappiness. He blamed himself for not making his marriage work. He could tell himself over and over that he had tried, but he knew it wasn't true. Sadirah played the role of his wife, mother of his daughter, but he had always held back part of himself from her. He didn't love her. 

"I sent Jamila out with the nanny so that I could discuss the situation with her mother. I guess my anger made me careless, and Sadirah refused to speak to me anyway."

Heero rejoined them. "I have some disturbing news."

"I don't think things could get much worse," sighed Quatre. 

"You sent two men to Switzerland yesterday," Heero began.

"How do you know about that?" asked Rashid. 

Heero didn't answer. "One of the men was found shot in his hotel room this afternoon. He is dead."

Quatre was aghast. "Do you know what happened?"

"I guess he was asking too many questions," commented Heero. "Someone didn't like his curiosity."

"Who even knew that they left?" Quatre asked Rashid.

"I sent them without giving them a chance to discuss their assignment. Salim and Yaqob have worked for the Winner family for many years. They would not have spoken of this to anyone."

Quatre was starting to feel uneasy as Heero stared at them silently. Did he think they were trying to hide something from him that was of any importance to the security of the Earth Sphere United Nation? 

Finally Heero said, "I kept tabs on the flights headed for Geneva, and wasn't surprised when your men obtained their boarding passes."

"You knew? Did you tell someone?"

"I told only one person." Heero met Quatre's eyes. "Dorothy Catalonia."

"Dorothy!" Quatre couldn't believe the implication of Heero's announcement, that Dorothy might have something to do with the death of his man.

"She wasn't happy to hear that you were checking up on her."

"You don't actually believe that she would have anything to do with this?" Quatre demanded of Heero.

"The woman has secrets that I think she would cut her own throat before revealing to anyone," Heero told him. "Could she have something to do with it? When Dorothy took the assignment with me to infiltrate Romefeller, she did the job with frightening ease. For a couple of months she was the Dorothy Catalonia that I remember from the war. There were moments when I was afraid she was going to join their cause. Although she reported to me about their projects, I suspected she was holding something back. Does she have the means to kill one of your men? I doubt she turned in every Romefeller operative. In fact, she purposely seemed to cut the mission short. Morley was glad that she landed the big fish and didn't care that she let the small fry go."

"She could be contacting the small fry," suggested Rashid. "They may owe her favors which she is calling in."

Quatre turned to look at him incredulously. "You believe that she had my men killed?"

"One of your men," corrected Heero. "I believe his name was Salim."

Quatre shook his head. "Not Dorothy! I won't believe it of her."

"Master, she is the only one who knew aside from the three of us."

One of the Preventer agents stepped onto the terrace. "Mr. Winner, we have some news about your daughter."

Quatre pushed his way past Heero and joined Sadirah and her father who were listening to a police officer. The man stopped speaking to look at Quatre. "I was just telling your wife that my partner and I picked up a little girl matching the description of your daughter. She was looking a little lost, and it looked like she must have fallen down and gotten a nasty scrape."

Although a wave of anger towards Sadirah crashed through him, Quatre didn't even look at her. "She was all right otherwise? Where is she?"

The officer rubbed his neck nervously, then continued with his story. "We asked her if she knew where her parents were. She gave us a story about her nanny ditching her at the park, then she told us that her mother's picture was in the paper."

Sadirah's picture was always in the paper, thought Quatre. At least it would serve a useful purpose. "Is my daughter in your car? Why didn't you bring her up?"

"Well, I think we misunderstood the little girl. We showed her the paper, and she pointed out a different woman." The officer avoided looking at Sadirah. "Dorothy Catalonia. Her picture was in today's paper, along with the little girl. We didn't have any reason not to believe her."

"Dorothy?" Quatre was starting to get a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Did you take my daughter to her?"

He reluctantly nodded. "I didn't think we had made a mistake until we heard about the missing girl at the station."

"That woman has my child?" Sadirah suddenly burst out angrily.

Her father put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "When did you take my granddaughter to her house?"

"Must have been about four hours ago. She called her 'mama' and Miss Catalonia didn't correct her. I thought she looked a little surprised, but then I would be too if the police found my young daughter wandering around without any supervision."

Four hours? Dorothy had to know that he would be beyond distressed to learn of his daughter's disappearance. They had discussed her safety just that morning. What was she thinking in keeping Jamila's whereabouts from him? Quatre felt so hurt by her disloyalty that he couldn't speak.

"This is your fault!" cried Sadirah furiously. "She knows she can never have you because of Jamila! I'll never forgive you if that whore hurts my child!"

In a daze, Quatre watched her walk stiffly from the room. Quatre wouldn't believe that Dorothy had anything but good intentions, and yet he could not understand why she hadn't called him about Jamila. One glance at Barak told him that the man didn't trust Dorothy, and Rashid's stern stare gave him the same impression. 

Was it possible that Dorothy had completely fooled him? Could she have turned the tables on him by seducing him into letting down his guard, then finding the most destructive way to hurt him? What secret was she protecting in Switzerland that would prompt her to have one of his men murdered? 

Quatre's head was pounding from the stress, and his stomach was twisted in knots. If Heero didn't trust her, then what reason did he have? Dorothy Catalonia had already proved herself conniving and deceiving, even unbalanced after joining the White Fang. Quatre hadn't wanted to listen to the voices of reason, Rashid who pointed out her faults and his father-in-law who reminded him that Dorothy came from a long line of scheming manipulators.

"Why don't you call her?" Heero's voice at his shoulder shocked him from his dismal thoughts and doubts. "I'm sure she has a logical explanation for not contacting you."

Quatre hoped that he was right. Although he didn't know Dorothy's number, Heero supplied it readily. The phone rang several times before she finally answered. 

"Catalonia residence."

"Miss Dorothy, this is Quatre."

She cut him off before he could continue. "I know why you are calling. The police must have contacted you."

"Is Jamila with you?"

"She is sleeping."

"I'm coming to get her."

"No! Don't come over." Her adamant outburst startled him. 

"I'm worried about her."

"We can discuss this tomorrow. Right now, you will just have to trust me."

Trust her? Quatre was beginning to think he had lost his mind by trusting her in the first place. "I want my daughter back tonight, Dorothy."

She made a sound of disgust. "Come by tomorrow morning. She is sleeping right now, and I don't want to disturb her for reasons that will be clear to you in the morning. Trust me, Quatre." The line went dead when she hung up.

Barak was at his shoulder. "What did she say?"

"I should pick up Jamila in the morning." Quatre carefully set the phone down. But he stared at it, his head pounding, his heart aching, his pulse racing. In his mind he saw again the face of the woman who had leveled a gun at him on the Libra.

"By morning she could take Jamila anywhere," Barak said in his ear. "She could take her to Switzerland where her contacts there could make her disappear."

"She told me that I should trust her," Quatre said, his tone not even convincing to himself.

His father-in-law said what needed to be said. "You can't trust a woman like that," 

"Master Quatre?" prompted Rashid.

"Don't do anything foolish," warned Heero. "If you truly believe her capable of harming Jamila, then what is to stop her from whacking you if you go over there demanding that she return your daughter?"

"He's right." Barak looked at Rashid. "You will remain here and be responsible for Quatre's safety. I will take men to her house and get Jamila away from her."

Unable to stand any more, Quatre sat on the couch and covered his face with his hands. As Barak made arrangements, dismissing the Preventer agents by convincing them that his own men could handle the situation and that their interference would not be appreciated, Quatre felt as if his world were collapsing around him. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Sadirah looking at him with concern. She put her arms around him and he held her tightly. "I'm sorry, Sadirah. I'm so sorry for what I have allowed to happen."


	12. Chapter 12

****

Chapter 12

After hanging up the phone, Dorothy stared at it for a moment as she replayed in her mind the short conversation with Quatre. His distress was understandable, especially since she hadn't called him to tell him that Jamila was safe with her. Dorothy had been planning to call him after Jamila was sleeping, but she hadn't gotten a chance. When the phone had rung, Dorothy was afraid it would awaken the little girl lying on her bed, and so she cut the conversation with Quatre short. His tone when he told he that he wanted his daughter back that night sounded suspiciously distrustful. For what reason would he have not to trust her with Jamila? She adored his daughter and wouldn't do anything to harm her. On the contrary, she had even checked the front hall closet for the gun she had stored away after her return from Switzerland. She made sure it was loaded and ready just in case an opportunist got past the front gate security.

Lying down on the bed, Dorothy watched Jamila sleep, curled up clutching a teddy bear that Dorothy had fished out of the closet of the former nursery. At first she hadn't wanted to open that closet, having stored away the items that she ultimately did not need. She should have gotten rid of everything inside the closet long ago, but now she was glad she hadn't because Jamila had been delighted to have the bear. She had settled much easier on Dorothy's bed with the teddy bear to soothe her. Dorothy suspected that the little girl needed something to cling to because of the turmoil in her life. The angel had served that purpose until Sadirah had destroyed it, and now Jamila had the teddy bear. Dorothy was glad that it was being put to good use after being locked away in a dark closet for so many years.

Dorothy reached out to touch Jamila's hair, smoothing it back from her face. The swelling on her cheek had subsided, but it was dark and would leave an ugly bruise. When Quatre saw it, he would understand why Dorothy had kept Jamila with her for the night instead of bringing her back immediately. Dorothy suspected that Sadirah's violent behavior was worse on this occasion than her other episodes of abuse, prompting Jamila to run away. She knew why the nannies were being dismissed, and Quatre would know as well. The women had probably tried to protect Jamila. After this day, Sadirah would not be able to hurt Jamila again. Dorothy guessed that Quatre would seek some psychological help for his wife and keep his daughter from her until she received it. But Dorothy thought of the gun in the hall and what good use it could be put to. Although it gave Dorothy some satisfaction to fantasize about putting a bullet in Sadirah Barak, she would never wish to cause the kind of pain that the death of her mother would give Jamila, 

One arm around Jamila, Dorothy closed her eyes and started to doze. She was dreaming of skipping on a beach, a small hand in her own, and she realized that it belonged to Jamila. The girl was laughing and swinging her arms as she kicked on the water on the shoreline. Looking around, Dorothy saw Quatre watching them with a smile as he stood on the verandah of the beach house in Barbados. In her dream, she settled in the sand by the shore where Jamila began to dig and they began construction of a castle together. She was enjoying her dream so much that at she first refused to acknowledge that the security buzzer was sounding. She moaned and turned away from the sound, then she felt herself being pushed.

"Miss Dorothy, what is that noise?"

Dorothy opened her eyes to see the sleepy Jamila hovering over her, still clutching the teddy bear. Shaking her head, she left the bed. "Don't worry. Lie back down."

The buzzing was insistent, so Dorothy guessed that Quatre had come for his daughter. When she was sure that Jamila was settled and assured her that she merely had a visitor, Dorothy trudged down the steps and headed to the door. She was exhausted and unhappy to be drawn away from her dream. She remembered what Quatre had once said about dreams and not returning to them, and she knew it was true. She had tried to re-capture what she had with Quatre in Barbados these last few days, but that had been doomed to failure as well. He was married with a child he could not abandon to be with her, and if he did, Dorothy didn't think she could forgive him for leaving Jamila with Sadirah. The best thing to do would be to end the affair and try to go on with her life. 

She pressed the button to the security system to open the gate, then after running her hand through her mussed hair, she waited until he rang the doorbell before opening it.

The words to scold him for not trusting him died on her lips when she found herself face-to-face with Randolph Morrison. She immediately tried to shut the door, but he shoved it open, and she stumbled back from him, almost crashing into the wall.

"My dear Dorothy, that was surprisingly foolish of you!" He slammed the door behind him. "How unlike you! Where you expecting someone else? Quatre Winner, perhaps?"

Her first instinct was try to take control of the situation by demanding an explanation, but the wild look in his eyes told her that Morrison was beyond any kind of reasoning. He was standing between her and the closet where she stored her gun. Dorothy almost swore aloud, thinking that she had just had the gun in her hand not more than an hour ago. 

He seized her arm and dragged her to the couch, throwing her down on it. "I didn't actually think you would let me in! But now that you have, there are some things we have to discuss."

Dorothy tried to remain calm, but she could see that he was trembling with rage as he stood over her, so she knew that he might snap completely any moment. "Whatever you have to say, do it and get out!"

He raised his hand and swiped out to slap her face, but Dorothy was ready for that reaction. She ducked under his hand and tried to lunge past him, but he snaked out his arm and caught her around the waist. Dorothy struggled against him, even after he managed to strike her with his closed fist, until he knocked her on the floor and straddled her, pinning down her arms with his legs and holding her still with his weight. 

Dorothy could taste blood in her mouth, and by his sickening smile, she knew he was enjoying his triumph over her. 

"I never knew you were so feisty, Dorothy! Is this the side you show Winner?" He chuckled as he reached for a handful of her hair and jerked hard. When she winced from the pain, he cackled with laughter. "Who is in control now, Dorothy?"

When she didn't answer, he slammed her head back against the floor. The impact left her in a daze for a moment, but she could still hear his insane laughter. 

"Now that I have your attention, my dear, I believe that we were about to discuss business."

She focused on his face although her head was aching and she was feeling nauseous. "What do you want?"

"Unfortunately, you are going to meet with an untimely accident tonight. Well, actually not an accident, but rather a brutal end. One of your Romefeller pals stopped by tonight, and unsuspecting, you let him in to talk about old times. But he had something else in mind, a little revenge for your betrayal."

Dorothy tried to buck him off, but he had her tightly pinned to the floor. "You have completely lost your mind! No one will believe that!"

He shrugged. "Who do you think will care? Winner? Do you think he will want the scandal of forcing an investigation? Beside, he could be a suspect in your death." Morrison looked thoughtful for a moment. "I like that idea much better. If I could frame him for your murder, then his lovely young wife will be left alone to administer to the fortune that little girl will inherit."

"You are insane! Quatre Winner isn't a murderer!" Dorothy tried to move again, earning a club on the side of her head with his fist. She realized that attempting to escape at this point wasn't getting her anywhere and he might knock her completely unconscious. The gun was only ten feet away, but she couldn't move.

"Everyone knows how much he adores his daughter. Faced with losing her when his wife leaves him or ridding himself of his whore, I think we know which he would chose." Morrison wasn't even looking at her as he stared at some point with a self-congratulatory smile.

"Is that what this is about?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm although she was starting to feel panic. Morrison wouldn't be satisfied with anything short of her death. "Do you really think you can seduce Sadirah Barak?"

His smile faded, and Dorothy guessed that he had already tried and failed. "I have developed a friendship with her, and that might logically lead to something deeper."

Dorothy would have laughed at his pathetic reasoning if she weren't so alarmed by his insanity. "So you are going to kill me because I took back the money you stole from me?"

"My dear, the amount of money I took from you was nothing to your accounts. When you think of it, the Earth Sphere United Nation should have confiscated the Dermail fortune anyway after how it was accrued."

"Why did you use my money to finance Mahmad Al-Jazar?" she demanded. "What does any of this have to do with him? Why do you care what happens on L4?"

"That wasn't _my_ idea. I don't really understand his reasons for doing so, but Hassan Barak contacted me several months ago when he saw a picture of us in the society pages of a newspaper. I was quite flattered that a man of his importance would invest in my firm, but he wanted our business to remain between just the two of us. The money he was paying me in commissions was enough to ensure my silence."

"What does that have to do with Al-Jazar?"

"Barak paid me to siphon from your fund."

"So you had no compunction about stealing from me to hand over the Al-Jazar?" 

"Jazar wasn't really getting the money," he told her with a smirk. "The money was being dumped into an account with his name, but the only man with access to it was Quatre Raberba Winner."

"That isn't true!" And yet, even as she cried out the words, she knew it was a very real possibility. Quatre had known about the account all along. Had he used the knowledge to drive a wedge between her and Randolph Morrison? Tears burned her eyes as she realized that Quatre could have been manipulating her just as he had in Barbados.

"You see, Winner was covering all the bases, so to speak," continued Morrison. "He learned a very valuable lesson when his peace-loving father lost his life. Using your fortune, he has backed Al-Jazar and even constructed a mobile doll manufacturing facility with plans obtained from the files of your family."

Dorothy closed her eyes to the tears and shook her head. It couldn't be true!

"With everything in your name, he doesn't have to worry about any sanctions from the Earth Sphere United Nation. Nor would he receive any fallout if Al-Jazar is overthrown. Who wouldn't believe that the last rat of Romefeller would support an armed conflict, especially when she had so much to gain?"

She tried not to believe him, but Heero had warned her of the possibility that Quatre might not be as innocent as he portrayed himself. What proof had she gotten from him that he wasn't involved in the facility on X7350? He had told her what she wanted to hear and her heart had blocked her head from questioning him.

"So how does it feel, Dorothy, to know that Quatre Winner was screwing you in more ways than just the one? One of his own men tried to kill you, and he cleverly made it look as though I was involved. Fortunately, the Preventers were able to trace the money placed in my account. It came from Quatre Raberba Winner."

Dorothy didn't want to believe anything he said, but she felt as if she were drowning in a sea of doubt. Why should she trust Quatre? He had used her and tossed her aside five years ago. Everything that Morrison had told her made frightening sense. And yet Dorothy couldn't ignore the warning from her heart. Quatre would not do these things to her! She loved him, and she knew, without his saying the words to her that he loved her too.

"It's not true," she said calmly.

Morrison sighed. "You are a bigger fool than I thought, Dorothy." He put his hands around her neck. "For some reason I can see Winner strangling you. He doesn't seem the type to make a mess with a gun."

Dorothy struggled against the pressure of his hands, but he had her securely pinned to the floor. As her body started to struggle on its own against the lack of oxygen, she could barely hear Morrison's laughter through the strange rushing sound through her ears. This was how it felt to die?

As if from far away, she heard Jamila's scream. "Miss Dorothy!"

Morrison was momentarily startled, but it was enough time for Dorothy to use the adrenaline her body had built up. She heaved him off, then scrambled to the closet. Yanking open the door, she fumbled for a moment and managed to get the gun in her hands just as Morrison reached her.

Spinning around, gasping for breath, she aimed the gun at him.

He took a step back, and Dorothy was aware that he was between her and Jamila. Although she was afraid for Jamila's safety, Dorothy knew she couldn't show Morrison any weakness. "My gun is loaded, and you surely know that I know how to use it." He stared at the barrel of the pistol with wide eyes. She waved the gun. "Get over there." She was directing him further away from Jamila.

"I'm scared," whimpered Jamila as she started to creep forward.

Morrison glanced at the girl, then back at Dorothy. "What are you doing with Winner's brat?"

"Shut up!" She cocked her head in the direction she wanted him to move. "Unless you want me to end this right here and now, I suggest that you step aside."

"You'd never shoot me in front of the girl," said Morrison with a confident smirk. He took a step toward her.

Regretting the necessity, Dorothy aimed and fired, sending a bullet skimming across his shoulder. Jamila shrieked in terror and burst into tears, and Morrison stumbled back, blood oozing from the hole she had made in his designer sport coat. The bullet lodged in the wall a safe distance from Jamila.

"Do you still think I won't shoot you?" Dorothy coolly raised a brow, although she was far from feeling composed with Jamila sobbing hysterically. 

Morrison moved in the direction that she indicated, his hand pressed to his wound to stop the flow of blood. "You bitch! You think this is over?"

Dorothy reached behind her to open the door. "I do, Randolph. Get out of my house now!"

He started toward the door, but he suddenly stopped, a triumphant smile on his face as he looked past her.

As Dorothy turned her head, she heard Jamila cry out, "Grandpapa!"

For a moment she looked into the dark, chilling eyes of Hassan Barak, then he raised a gun and slammed down hard on the side of her head. Before she lost consciousness, she heard Morrison laughing and Jamila screaming.

_For many days Dorothy went through life in a daze. While before she had left her room in the mansion to walk in the extensive grounds or take her meal in the formal dining hall, she now remained curled in a ball hugging her pillow into which she often muffled her sobs. At first she refused to believe the truth, but she dared not seek a doctor's second opinion for fear of the potential scandal. She had to accept the fact that she was carrying Quatre Winner's child._

Initially she had considered only two options. The first, to end the pregnancy before it went any further, was far too repugnant to Dorothy. While she didn't condemn other women who might do so, she could never live with her conscience afterward. The second option was to give up the child for adoption, which meant going through with the pregnancy and finding some means of relinquishing the child to a couple that could raise it in a loving home. She would not be able to hide her condition from the staff for much longer, so she knew that she would have to leave for an extended period of time.

Having made the decision to give up the baby, Dorothy tried not to imagine the child that she and Quatre had created. Instead she researched the adoption process. She would have to contact an agency, either a public or private agency, but Dorothy couldn't imagine speaking to a stranger about her problem sitting in an office no matter how comfortable. A lawyer would be able to arrange a private adoption. Dorothy knew several lawyers, who knew other lawyers, and her distrust of them led her to the conclusion that any adoption arranged with a lawyer as intermediary would expose her to predicament to far too many people.

That left her with one course of action. Although she had often ignored the personal advertisements, Dorothy now scanned them to find a couple who would take her baby. Many of them offered exorbitant sums of money for a woman who would help them to realize their dream of having a family, so she would not have to worry that her child would not have a comfortable life.

Deciding on one ad, she tried to call the number that was listed several times, but each time she ended up in tears. Dorothy dismissed her emotional outburst as a side effect of being pregnant. She could not possibly want to raise a child on her own! Yet she started to feel yearnings of motherhood probably due to her hormonal imbalance. The only mother she had ever known was no role model for her. Dorothy had wanted her mother to love her so much that when she didn't, Dorothy thought the fault was her own. She might have gone on for the rest of her life believing herself to have some flaw that made her incapable of earning the love of another had she not gone to Barbados. Even if he ultimately rejected her, for a few glorious days, Quatre Winner made her feel as if she were worthy of his love. 

As she walked in the dark, dreary halls of the Dermail Mansion, Dorothy relived memories of her childhood under this roof. Other children might have memories of playing games with siblings or friends or even kind nannies who took their roles as surrogate mother seriously enough to provide the love that might be missing. Dorothy only remembered the constant discussion of war, the clang of steel in the fitness room as her father practiced his favorite activity. 

Standing now in the huge room with its vaulted ceilings and walls decorated with crossed swords, Dorothy had a memory of her father fencing with her grandfather. The nanny had reluctantly allowed her to stop in after a riding lesson when she heard the noise as they walked past. Dorothy couldn't have been more than six, and she had watched the two men fight in awe. When it had ended with her father disarming the older man, Dorothy had clapped and cheered. Her grandfather had grunted and complained about his blade, while her father came to Dorothy and handed her the sword he had used. She could barely lift it with both her hands.

"You're a Catalonia, too, little Dorothy. Remember that, and make me proud."

Dorothy now looked at the crossed swords, and she felt disgust at the lengths she had gone through to make him proud and he had not once acknowledged her before his death. Dorothy wouldn't know what to do with a child.

With new determination, she called the number in the newspaper and made arrangements to meet with the couple that lived several hours away. The chauffeur didn't make any comment the day that she chose to take one of the sedans for a drive. Dorothy often wondered what the servants were thinking, but she was actually afraid to find out. Their silent stares often unnerved her. 

She drove to a car rental agency and rented a different car because she didn't want any connection made to her. Then she shopped at a mall in a city between her home and the city where she would be meeting the couple at their home. There she purchased some comfortable, casual clothing from a discount store, and she changed in the restroom where she applied makeup a little too heavily in order to alter her appearance. If she weren't so afraid of being recognized, Dorothy would find the lengths she went to hide her identity amusing. 

The couple lived in the best part of the mid-sized town. As Dorothy pulled to a stop in front of the large house, she realized that she had never been in such a dwelling. She had spent all her life going from mansions, palaces and hotels. The way these people lived was completely foreign to her. Yet as she walked up the sidewalk which was flanked on either side by flowers, she thought the house appeared to be cozy. A child would enjoy running in their large yard, and she noticed a playground set around the back of the house. There were children playing in the yards behind the other houses, and she could hear the friendly chatter of neighbors who only paused to look at her before resuming their conversations.

Even before she rang the doorbell, the door flung open and both the man and woman stood before her. Their faces were beaming with what Dorothy could only describe as joy. At least a dozen years older than her, the woman was petite and blonde while the husband was tall and well proportioned with light brown hair. They appeared to be good people.

"You must be the young woman who called. "The man held out his hand. "I am Marcus Winston, and this is my wife, Susan."

Dorothy clasped his hand. His handshake was warm and firm. "I am pleased to meet you."

"Do come in." Susan Winston stepped aside, and Dorothy entered their home. The foyer was small and opened directly into a living area that resembled a salon, but with furniture that actually looked comfortable instead of the spindly legged sofas and chairs that passed for furniture at the Dermail Mansion.

As Mr. Winston took Dorothy's coat to hang in the foyer closet, his wife escorted Dorothy to a comfortable chair. 

"Would you like some coffee or some other refreshment?" he asked when he joined them.

"A glass of water." Dorothy couldn't help but look around the room as he left. The main area of their house was smaller than her own bedchamber, but it was cozy and inviting. She immediately found herself relaxing although she was very nervous.

"We didn't have much of a chance to speak on the phone," Mrs. Winston said after Dorothy had taken a sip of the water that her husband had brought for her. "We are just so happy that you answered our ad."

"We have been running that ad for three years now," Mr. Winston told her as he joined his wife on the couch. He took her hand and squeezed it. "After Susan miscarried her third child, the doctor told us it would be unwise to try again."

"I had almost given up hope of ever having a child until your phone call," said Susan Winston, her eyes glistening with tears. Her husband gave her a hug. Dorothy felt uncomfortable in the face of their emotion. She didn't know what to say.

"As you can see, I am able to provide a good home for your child," Marcus Winston told her after a moment of silence. "I own a business consulting firm, and Susan does volunteer work so she would be able to devote her time to a child."

Dorothy was starting to feel queasy, so she took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves.

"I'm sure this is very overwhelming for you," Susan said to her as she reached out to pat the hands Dorothy didn't realize that she was wringing in her lap. "If you change your mind, I will understand."

"I hope that you do not mind me asking, but how does an attractive young woman like yourself find herself in this situation?" asked Marcus as tactfully as he could although his wife still gave him an exasperated glance.

Dorothy sighed. "I became involved with a man who didn't have a permanent relationship in mind."

"Something good can come of it," said Susan hopefully. She stood. "Would you like to see the rest of the house? We have had a nursery prepared for a long time, first in anticipation of our own child then in the hope that we could adopt."

"There are many children in orphanages who have lost parents during the war," Dorothy remarked. She didn't really know about them first-hand, but she had once read that there were many innocent victims of the war that needed homes.

"Marcus and I have been considering that option. When we received your phone call, we decided to wait." 

The nursery was small, with a crib, a chest of drawers, and other baby furniture. The nursery at the Dermail Mansion was large enough to accommodate a side room where the nanny had a bedroom and her own sitting room. The wall of this nursery was pastel yellow with teddy bears and flowers. The nursery at the Dermail Mansion was paneled with dark mahogany.

"Are you feeling all right?" asked Susan with concern.

"I need a little air." 

_They walked out to the backyard, and Dorothy was surprised to see children playing on the equipment that the Winstons had bought for the children that they hoped to have. Susan explained that they enjoyed watching the neighborhood children, then added that her child would never lack for playmates. Dorothy began to feel a lump in her throat as she watched them, and barely heard Susan excuse herself to get some milk and cookies for the children._

Dorothy estimated that the six children from three different families playing on the large play area. Two older girls were talking as they pushed younger children on swings, and three other children were playing tag. One toddler was digging in the sand. The blond child that could hardly maintain his balance mesmerized Dorothy, and as she continued to watch, she felt her heart begin to beat faster and the lump in her throat grow.

Susan reappeared with the cookies and milk, calling the children who happily hurried to partake in the treat. Nobody showed any concern for the toddler who tried to keep up and ultimately fell face first into the grass and burst into tears. Without knowing why, Dorothy went to the little boy as Susan served the milk and cookies. When she reached him, she helped him up, then took a silk handkerchief from her pocket and gently wiped his chubby pink cheeks. He threw his arms around her to hug, then waddled toward the other children as fast as his chubby legs would take him. 

Dorothy didn't realize she had started to cry until Susan took the handkerchief from her hands and dabbed at her tears. When she had finished, she looked first at the monogrammed square, then at Dorothy's face. 

"I didn't really think you were desperate for the money we offered, since you didn't even ask about it. I'm quite sure, in fact, that you can probably provide a better home for your child than we can."

"I don't know what a home is," Dorothy admitted to her. 

"It's the place that you make for the ones that you love," Susan told her kindly. "I don't know you, but I sense that you have a lot of love locked inside. I think you want to share it with your child but you are afraid."

"I can't have this baby," Dorothy confessed. "My life would be ruined."

"Your life as it is now would be ruined." Susan smiled at her as she helped Dorothy to stand. "You will just have to make a new life."

Dorothy felt guilty for raising the hopes of the couple and apologized to them, but Susan seemed to think it was a sign that they should do as Dorothy suggested and adopt children from the orphanages. 

During the long drive back home, Dorothy's mind raced with many plans. She decided to invent a beau that she had met on her vacation, and she would pretend to carry on a long distance romance with him. The staff didn't need any details because she was going to dismiss them with a generous severance. Dorothy had no intention of raising a child in the Dermail shrine to war. She would move into a house like the one the Winstons lived in.

Upon returning to the mansion, she called some acquaintances to find employment for her staff. Fortunately, Relena Peacecraft offered to take the dozen servants for her own household because her duties required her to have a larger staff and Dorothy would be saving her the trouble of interviewing and hiring people. She tried to wheedle information out of Dorothy, and Dorothy hinted that she had met someone special, but she didn't give Relena any details either.

The staff expressed their dismay that they would no longer be working for her, but they were grateful for the extravagant severance pay that Dorothy gave them and the employment she had found for them. With that problem covered, Dorothy threw herself into the activity of finding a new place to live. After looking at dozens of houses, she found one on the east side of town that filled her requirements. Dorothy did hire a maid because she wasn't brave enough to attempt fending for herself, especially when she had a pregnancy to worry about. 

Dorothy enjoyed decorating her new home, and she found herself imagining her child playing in the backyard or with the neighbor children. She even allowed herself to imagine what her child would look like. Dorothy would adore either the blond boy or girl.

One afternoon while she was in the middle of attempting to put up pale green wallpaper with rocking horses in the nursery, the ringing doorbell interrupted her. 

When she peered through the peephole of the door, she was surprised to see Heero Yuy standing outside her door. She hadn't really had any contact with the former gundam pilot since the war, so she couldn't imagine what he would want of her. But she opened the door.

He had been looking around, and seeing her, he nodded. "Miss Catalonia, may I come in to talk with you?"

She stepped aside. "I'm not sure what we have to discuss." For an instant she was afraid that he may have had some contact with Quatre.

After she closed the door, he told her, "I am here on business. You know that I work for the Preventers."

"Actually, I didn't know that."

"Relena must have told you."

If she did, Dorothy must not have been paying attention. "What does that have to do with me?"

"There has been some indication that the remaining members of Romefeller have been gathering in Switzerland to plan an insurrection."

"I have nothing to do with that," she denied hotly. She couldn't believe that Heero Yuy had come to her home to accuse her of treason. The last thing she would do is be involved in anything dealing with war. She wanted a future free of violence for her child.

"I didn't think you did." Heero glanced around the house, one brow raised skeptically. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"A cold beer would be nice."

She returned with a chilled glass of wine after a search of the kitchen did not turn up any beer. "I don't have any beer." Dorothy made a mental note to add it to the shopping list for the maid. She might have other guests who might not be expecting the excellent vintage she was serving the Preventer agent.

He viewed the wine skeptically, then drained the glass before setting it aside. "I would never have come up with this hare-brained scheme, but Relena suggested it to my superior, Bob Morley."

"What scheme?" 

Heero Yuy looked her in the eye. "I'm going to make very clear that I don't trust you, Dorothy Catalonia."

Quatre continued to pace the suite long after Sadirah had gone to bed. He didn't know how she could sleep when Jamila was not yet safely returned, but then she trusted her father to bring her back. The Preventer agents had all left except Heero Yuy, and his silence was unnerving as he sat on the couch watching him.

Finally, Heero spoke. "What the hell did you do to Dorothy Catalonia to make her go off the deep end like this?"

Quatre didn't like hearing Dorothy's behavior described like that. "Aren't you being a bit harsh?"

"You tell me. She kidnapped your daughter, didn't she?"

"I wouldn't call having the police escort Jamila to her house an actual kidnapping."

"The tone you used with her on the phone would suggest otherwise."

Quatre looked at Heero with a frown. "What was I supposed to think? The police took my daughter to her house after finding her lost, and she didn't bother to call me."

"Maybe she had a good reason."

He was about to argue when he remembered how disturbed she had been by Jamila's abuse. Dorothy had even confronted Sadirah about it, then tried to question Atifah. Recalling that Rashid was angry enough to forget his duties in order to bring the matter up to Sadirah, Quatre realized that Jamila must have been hurt badly by her mother. She had run away. That fact was telling. 

Clenching his teeth, Quatre glanced at Heero and wished he would leave so that he could give Sadirah the beating she deserved whether it landed him in jail or not. He couldn't believe how foolish he had been to believe any innuendoes about Dorothy. His worry for Jamila had clouded his ability to reason.

"Are you going to tell me?" asked Heero with a raised brow.

"It is private." 

Heero sighed as he looked at his watch. "It's taking your father-in-law a long time to bring your daughter back."

Quatre had the same thought. If there had been some trouble, wouldn't they know by now? "I should have sent Rashid with them."

"That would not have been a good idea. He should be responsible for your safety." He nodded in the direction that Sadirah had gone. 

"You don't trust my wife?" 

"I know a vindictive bitch when I see one. I've seen how she looks at you, and I hate to break the news to you, but the glow of love has worn off your marriage."

There had never been a glow of love on their marriage. Quatre didn't know why he was explaining to Heero, but he did. "She didn't want to marry me, but I forced her, thinking that I could make amends for what I did to her. I can't imagine how she felt having to leave that exclusive school in Switzerland after all that her father had to go through to get her accepted."

"I'm sure the lifestyle to which you have subjected her since then has made the shame so much worse," remarked Heero sarcastically.

He couldn't respond because Quatre had felt the same deep inside for quite some time. After four years of marriage, he had lost patience with Sadirah, and nothing was going to keep him from ending the sad farce, especially knowing what he did now about her mistreatment of their child. Nothing could convince him to stay with her.

Heero glanced at his watch again. "He should have called by now."

Although Heero had initially agreed with Barak when he told Quatre to remain behind, now Quatre was getting the feeling that Heero expected him to act. "If you think it's safe..."

"You'll be with me. Of course you'll be safe." Heero stood. 

Quatre also stood. "I will inform Rashid of my decision to leave."

"Maybe you should tell your wife."

He didn't bother to knock on her door, but stepped into her bedroom. Sadirah was sleeping with a peaceful smile curving her lips. Wearing one of the negligees she must have purchased recently, she was obviously expecting him to visit and planned to use her entire arsenal to win him back. She must have heard him close the door, because by the time he reached the bed and sat on the edge, she had opened her eyes. 

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked sleepily as she reached out to touch him. She stroked his hand for a moment before sliding her hand up his arm and around his neck. 

"They haven't returned," he told her softly as he allowed her to pull his head close to hers. "Are you worried?"

"About Jamila? My father will take good care of her."

"Like you?" Before Sadirah could respond, he reached out and caught her slender neck in his hand, then shoved her back against the pillow. "I've spoken to Rashid. I'm sure you know what he told me." Disgusted that her wince of pain made him feel too much pleasure, he quickly released her and stepped away. 

Sadirah coughed, then gasped in a breath. "I can't imagine what your spy told you." She rolled away to get out of the bed, but Quatre seized her arm and threw her back down. 

Grasping her wrist so tightly that his own fingers ached from the effort, he dragged her close. "I believe that we discussed the consequences of your inattention to Jamila's care."

Sadirah managed to twist away from him with strength that surprised him. She quickly put distance between them, but Quatre had already decided to leave this confrontation for later so she had little to fear from him now. "Jamila had an accident! I told Rashid so, and I am telling you now. I did not hurt her! Why would I hurt my own child?"

Had her concern for Jamila always sounded so contrived? Why had he never noticed it before? "I am going with Heero Yuy to Dorothy Catalonia's home to bring Jamila back. And when I return, I will dictate the terms of our divorce. Have your things packed. You're going back to L4. Alone."

Her eyes met his, and Quatre saw what Heero had been talking about earlier. Sadirah didn't bother to hide her deep hatred. He should have been saddened that their relationship ended so bitterly when they still shared Jamila, but he was more disgusted to realize what a gullible idiot he had been for the last five years.

Turning on his heel, he headed to the door.

"Do you think you will end up with everything?" she snarled at his back. "Do you think I haven't prepared for this?"

Not responding, Quatre didn't even look back at her when he left. He never wanted to see Sadirah Barak again. 

Rashid was waiting with Heero. Both men seemed to be waiting for some report, but Quatre didn't tell them what had happened with Sadirah. His concern now was for Jamila and for Dorothy. He had been too harsh with Dorothy on the phone, and had allowed Sadirah's father to convince him that she was a threat. After having told Barak that he was planning to divorce his daughter, he should have realized that he would have only his daughter's interests in mind. Thinking of the men that Barak had taken with him, Quatre was worried that they might use unnecessary force to take Jamila away from Dorothy. 

They took Quatre's car, and despite the sparse traffic this time of the night, he was so distracted by his thoughts of the danger Dorothy might be in that he almost hit a car. 

Heero glanced at him with a raised brow once he had gained control of the car again. "I'd like to get there in one piece."

Quatre kept his eyes on the road. "Are you worried about Miss Dorothy?"

"You should be."

He didn't need to hear Heero's ominous warning. "Why did you let me believe that Dorothy might be guilty of some crime?"

"Because I didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle. I still don't. I think the last piece is in Switzerland."

"You were with Dorothy in Switzerland," Quatre pointed out. "What do you know?"

"I had no reason to check up on her. She was my partner, not a suspect in anything. Dorothy didn't want to accept the mission at first, then she suddenly changed her mind. She performed her duties with efficiency, bringing it to a quick end. She kept giving me hints that she was involved with someone and expected him to return from space. Relena told me that she heard the same thing."

Quatre didn't believe for a moment that she had been hinting about him. She hadn't given him a chance to find out why she had left him in Barbados. Yet being with her these last few days convinced Quatre that her decision to leave him had been painful to her. Dorothy had told him in Barbados that she loved him. If that were true, he didn't understand how she could forget him so quickly to move on to another man when he knew he would never love another woman. 

"This phantom lover never materialized," continued Heero. "She returned from Switzerland rather depressed, and Relena was sure she had a broken heart. We decided to let her work things out on her own, which she ultimately did."

That surely meant that Dorothy had become involved with another man after she left him. Quatre felt guilty for being jealous when he had, in the same amount of time, become a father, and a husband to another woman. 

When he turned the car onto the quiet, residential neighborhood where Dorothy lived, he was alarmed to see police cars already on the street. After stopping the car, he immediately got out and hurried to the house. Sadirah's father was speaking to a police officer and he tried to hail him, but Quatre ignored him and pushed aside the officer that attempted to bar him from entering the house. He feared finding Dorothy lying on the floor, killed by his overzealous personal security, but the living room was empty and the police hadn't even come in.

Turning to go back, he saw Barak waiting for him at the door. 

"We were too late," he told Quatre. "She had already taken Jamila and fled with her lover."

"Her lover?" he repeated, unwilling to believe what he had heard.

"The neighbors reported her letting in Randolph Morrison."

One of the police officers appeared behind Barak. "Mr. Barak, we have a few more questions."

As the two men disappeared outside, Quatre stared at the door, his thoughts jumbled, his heart feeling shredded. Before arriving here, he thought he had set aside his doubts. But hearing that Morrison had helped Dorothy leave with Jamila made them bubble to the surface again.

Heero stepped in, and he was frowning. "Dorothy apparently left with Randolph Morrison. They had Jamila with them."

Quatre covered his face with his hands again. He wanted this nightmare to end so that he could wake up hearing the sound of the sea, the calls of the gulls on the beach, and Dorothy's sleepy sighs in his ear as she slept beside him. What was happening now could not be real!

Running his hands through his hair, he opened his eyes, and he saw a hole in the wall. "What is that?" The small chunk of missing plaster was so obviously out of place that Quatre knew he would have noticed it on his other visits here. 

As Heero stepped over to the wall and dug into it with a small pocket knife, Quatre noticed that here was some blood smeared on the doorknob. He thought of Morrison and his threats, of the attempted murder on Dorothy, and he knew in his heart that Dorothy would not have gone willingly with Randolph Morrison.

"A bullet," Heero announced as he opened his palm to show Quatre. "Fired from close range. I'll have ballistics analyze it immediately to determine the gun type."

Barak stepped back in the house. "The only thing we can do now is wait for her next move. I imagine that if Morrison is involved, it will include a demand for ransom."

"Dorothy doesn't need my money," Quatre said. A ransom demand from her would be ridiculous.

"Al-Jazar needs your money," Barak snapped with annoyance. He put his hands on Quatre's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "You have got to stop thinking of her as your lover! There is no such thing as a coincidence, Quatre! She didn't just happen to run into you in Barbados. She could have been working with people opposed to peace even that long ago."

Quatre shook his head. "I won't believe it."

Barak sighed and released him. "For many years I believed in your father and the peace he strove to maintain for our colony. He did everything he could to save his fortune from warmongering people, and I helped him. I would have done anything for him. When I refused to divulge the codes to release your father's assets to OZ, they took my family hostage and tortured them. I lost my wife as a result."

"I know that," said Quatre sadly. When OZ had taken control of the colony, Barak's wife had been taken into custody and held as hostages. Barak's wife hadn't been strong enough to survive the ordeal of living as a prisoner on a Winner resource satellite. Sadirah had been little older than a child, and she had never spoken of the experience to Quatre, but he knew that she must have suffered as a result of losing her mother.

"When I hear the name Dorothy Catalonia, I can think of only one thing," hissed Barak. "OZ." With that he turned and walked out.

Quatre stared after him for a moment, then he said to Heero, "Barak was never entrusted with any of the codes. He could not have helped his wife if he had wanted to."

Heero released a long sigh, then shaking his head said, "You're going to have to trust your instincts, Quatre. You've always been a damn good judge of character, your wife notwithstanding. But I don't believe that Dorothy would be involved in the level of deception he is accusing her of."

Quatre didn't believe it either. "There is only one thing left to do, and that is to wait for a ransom demand." Maybe then he would get some answers to his questions.


	13. Chapter 13

****

Chapter 13

She was dreaming again, and Dorothy knew it, but she didn't want to awaken from this dream because this time she would make it end the way she wanted. 

Pain wracked her body from a particularly strong contraction, the worst yet after several hours of labor.

"It's almost time," she heard a doctor say. 

Despite the agony she was feeling after refusing any drugs that might cloud her memories of this moment, Dorothy felt such intense joy that tears gathered in her eyes. 

The nurse at her side squeezed her hand and smiled kindly at her. "On the next contraction you can push."

Almost before she finished saying it, the contraction came, and Dorothy did as the nurse instructed. She had thought there would be more pain, but she felt only relief from the effort of pushing her baby into the world. When its tiny body slip from her own, she felt a mixture of both sadness and happiness. She would miss its movements inside her, but she was looking forward to holding her baby in her arms.

"You have a beautiful baby girl," the nurse told her as she approached with a bundle wrapped in a blanket.

Dorothy reached out for her baby.

The nurse placed the bundle in her arms.

Dorothy moved the blanket so she could see her daughter's face. 

There was nothing amongst the blankets.

"Wake up, Miss Dorothy!" The voice seemed to be coming from far away.

The pain in her temple almost made Dorothy groan, but as she became aware of her surroundings, she realized that she was better off pretending not to have regained consciousness. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she was lying on a cold, hard floor. The air seemed stale, but she could smell the faint odor of a lemony floor wax that brought back memories of the shining floors of the Dermail Mansion. 

The hinges of a door creaked, and she heard footsteps. "Here, kid, have some toast and jam. You can have milk or orange juice." Dorothy recognized Morrison's voice.

"I'm not hungry! Miss Dorothy is sick! Wake up Miss Dorothy!"

Jamila sounded like such a demanding little autocrat that Dorothy almost smiled. 

"Shut up and eat!"

"Where is Grandpapa? Why did he hit Miss Dorothy?" Then she heard Jamila whimper and Dorothy wished she could put her arms around the frightened little girl. "I want my Papa."

"You can have the milk." Dorothy heard footsteps again, then the door shut with more force than necessary.

When she was sure that Morrison was gone, Dorothy opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred at first, but it soon cleared enough for her to see Jamila a few feet away, sitting with her back against a wall of dark mahogany paneling. She was hugging her knees to her chest, her face hiding in her arms, and Dorothy could see that she was crying because her shoulders were shaking. On the plate beside her was a slice of burned toast sloppily spread with grape jelly and there was a small carton of milk nearby. Dorothy tried to lift her head, but the movement made her feel nauseous. She felt something fuzzy under her chin, and moving it, she saw that the teddy bear she had given Jamila was placed against her. Dorothy was so moved that Jamila had put the precious teddy bear with her that a tear slipped from her eye and she sniffled. 

Jamila's blond head popped up. "Miss Dorothy! You are awake!" She quickly crawled across the floor to her. 

Dorothy tried to move her hands, but they were tied so tightly with rope that her fingers felt numb. Her mouth was dry, but she managed to talk although her voice sounded strangely gruff. "Are you all right, Jamila? They did not hurt you?"

She shook her head in answer, then said. "Why did Grandpapa hurt you? He told me that Papa sent him."

Dorothy's heart rose to choke any answer she might give Jamila. Her head ached with the effort of convincing herself that Quatre would have nothing to do with this, and yet when she had expected him to come to her home to get Jamila, Hassan Barak had come in his place. Was she foolish enough to ignore the proof of his betrayal?

"Why didn't Grandpapa take me home?"

Jamila's question startled her into realizing how peculiar their situation was. If Quatre had sent Barak to take back Jamila from her, then why hadn't Jamila been returned to the hotel? Why was she here with Dorothy being served breakfast by Randolph Morrison?

She could hear footsteps approaching again, so she looked at Jamila. "Pretend that I am sleeping. Go eat your toast."

"I don't want to," pouted Jamila as she swiped at the tears on her cheeks. 

The footsteps were coming closer and Dorothy could tell that there was more than one person. "You must listen to me," she told Jamila as calmly as she could. "You must pretend that I am still sleeping."

The door handle was turning. 

Jamila looked at her in puzzlement for a moment, then crawled back to the toast. By the time the door opened, she was munching on the toast, and Dorothy was able to close her eyes with the relative surety that Jamila wasn't going to give her away.

"She is still unconscious," she heard Morrison say. "I think Mr. Barak may have killed her."

"He isn't going to be happy," she heard another voice say. "He was planning for Dorothy Catalonia to call Winner to make arrangements."

"I can do it just as well," volunteered Morrison. 

"He wants her to do it. He's planning on the shock of her treachery will making him careless. Winner already doesn't trust her. He thinks she arranged to have Salim killed in Switzerland."

Dorothy had been so distracted that she had forgotten about Quatre sending men to Switzerland. One of them had been killed? Quatre suspected her of arranging the murder? Although she was beginning to understand why Quatre had sounded so suspicious on the phone with her, she was hurt that he would believe for even a moment that she could be involved in the activities for which she was being implicated in a very intricate plot orchestrated by Hassan Barak. 

"Is my Papa coming to get me, Yaqob?" Jamila asked.

"Shut up, kid!"

"Do not speak to Missy Jamila like that!" Dorothy heard a blow and enjoyed imagining Morrison being the recipient. Whoever Yaqob was, he would at least make certain that Jamila wouldn't be harmed. She heard his voice again, this time speaking softly in Arabic, then she heard Jamila respond before Yaqob spoke to Morrison again. "This food is not even fit for swine! I should beat you like the dog that you are for offering it to her."

"It's the cook's day off," replied Morrison sarcastically. "Stop complaining. Tomorrow she can have all the strawberries and cream her pampered little belly can hold."

"I want to go home," complained Jamila. "Take me home, Yaqob. I want my Papa."

A moment of silence preceded Yaqob's answer. "You will be home by tonight, Missy Jamila."

"You're too soft on the girl," remarked Morrison.

"Keep your mouth shut or I will cut out your tongue. " Dorothy could sense that Yaqob was uneasy with his current assignment, but she doubted he would help her because whatever they were planning he was in too deep to back out.

She heard their footsteps move away, then their low voices at the door, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. The door opened and closed, and hearing both sets of footsteps, she opened her eyes again. 

Jamila crawled toward her, the slice of toast in her hand. "Are you hungry, Miss Dorothy?" She held up the toast to her mouth.

Dorothy wasn't hungry and was nauseated by the sight and smell of the toast, but she smiled and took a bite. She chewed quickly and swallowed. "Jamila, did you know that man?"

"I remember Mr. Morrison from the night when you gave me the angel," Jamila said. 

"The other man," Dorothy prompted her.

"Yaqob. He watches Papa to keep him safe."

Dorothy closed her eyes for a moment to stave off a wave of dizziness. She probably had a concussion, but she couldn't afford to drift into unconsciousness again. From what she had heard, Dorothy concluded that Yaqob was involved in some plan of Hassan Barak to lure Quatre away from his bodyguards and they hoped to use her to accomplish it. There was no way she could help as she was. She struggled against the ropes securing her hands, but they were too tight. Opening her eyes again, she looked around the room hoping to find something that Jamila could bring to her to use on the ropes, and for the first time, she realized where she was. Raising her head, she saw that furniture was shrouded with drop cloths, but she recognized her own bedroom at the Dermail Mansion.

"I don't like Mr. Morrison," commented Jamila. 

"I don't like him either," Dorothy said with a smile as she looked back at the little girl. 

"Mama likes to talk to him," Jamila told her. 

Dorothy suspected that Sadirah Barak had something to do with this abduction. 

She tried to remember if she had left something in her bedroom that could be used to cut the ropes, but Dorothy had left the Dermail Mansion five years ago with no intention of ever returning. She couldn't think straight now with the pain in her head. 

Jamila sat beside her and picked up the teddy bear to hug. "I'm scared."

Before Dorothy could try to comfort her, the door opened, and she closed her eyes again. 

"Come with me, Missy Jamila." Dorothy recognized Yaqob's accented deep voice although he spoke gently to the child. "Wake her up," he ordered Morrison.

Dorothy opened her eyes to see Jamila leaving with her hand in that of a large man. "Where are you taking her?"

He stopped and turned to look at her. "She will be safe with me."

"How long have you been awake?" demanded Morrison who was standing over her.

Dorothy ignored him to continue staring at Yaqob. "Where are you taking her?"

"I will bring her back in a few moments when you have made yourself presentable." Without another word, he left with Jamila who didn't seem to be frightened of the huge, dark Arab.

Morrison worked at the ropes binding her wrists. "Are you pleased to be home again? I rather like the old Dermail residence. I was hoping that we would live there after we were married." Dorothy didn't tell him that he must have been delusional to believe that she would marry him. 

The ropes loosened and Dorothy quickly pulled her hands out. Almost immediately she felt the barrel of a gun against her temple. "Don't try anything, you bitch, or plans or not, I'll put a bullet in your brain."

Even if she wanted to try something, her hands were too numb, and as the circulation was restored, her fingers tingled painfully. "Mr. Barak wouldn't be too happy about that," she remarked as she rubbed her hands together. 

Morrison stepped back although he continued to point the gun at her and he nodded toward the bed. "I've already laid out some clothing for you."

Dorothy felt dizzy as she stood, so she moved slowly toward the bed so that she wouldn't faint. Lying across the bed was an OZ uniform. She stared at it for a moment as poignant memories of her chaotic youth clouded her mind, then she turned to look at Morrison. "I'm not putting that on."

He raised his hand to slap her, but Dorothy didn't flinch as she faced him. "You will put it on, or I will dress you myself." The sickening smile on his face warned her that he would do more than dress her. 

Although she was worried about his intentions, she did as he ordered, removing her sweatshirt and jeans and carefully dressing in the uniform. She wasn't surprised that it fit snugly in the areas where she had matured in the past ten years, but she was able to make herself presentable. Dorothy used to feel pride dressed as she was, but now she felt only disgust and shame for the things she had done while wearing the uniform.

"How lovely you look, Dorothy," sneered Morrison. "I see why Barak wanted you to wear it. You look like the Romefeller bitch who could kidnap an innocent child and hold her for the fortune that you will be getting out of Winner."

"He doesn't carry money," she informed him. "So why does he have to come here? You don't expect him to attempt to withdraw the kind of cash Al-Jazar would want."

"No, he doesn't carry cash, but he is the only person who knows the access code to his accounts." Morrison snorted derisively. "And Al-Jazar doesn't want his money."

Dorothy stared at him blankly. 

Morrison smirked. "Hassan Barak plans on making a very large withdrawal from Quatre Winner's accounts, but the man doesn't even know how to untie the Winner fortune that he has worked so hard to accumulate over the years."

"He is using his own granddaughter to extort money from Quatre Winner?" Dorothy was outraged that the people that should love and protect Jamila were using her in their despicable greedy plots. "Don't you think Winner will realize what has happened? How does Barak plan to hide the kind of money he will undoubtedly demand?"

"Barak doesn't need to hide the money. Once Winner gives you the code, you are going to kill him."

"I will not!" Dorothy was astounded that they expected her to kill Quatre.

Morrison chuckled. "Don't be so obtuse, Dorothy. You won't really be killing Winner, but as far as the police are concerned, you will be getting the blame."

"And I suppose that I won't be alive to tell them any different." 

"I'm not exactly sure who is getting the pleasure of ending your life, my dear, but I am hoping that I will." He came close to her and jammed the barrel of the gun beneath her chin. "Ever since the night you decided to end our relationship, I've thought of nothing else. Did you think I was so stupid that I didn't know what was going on with Winner?"

"There was nothing going on with him," she told him calmly. Perhaps if she goaded him, he would lose his concentration and she would be able to get the gun away. Dorothy was relatively sure that he wasn't going to kill her now as long as she was an integral part of Hassan Barak's scheme.

Morrison narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but he seemed to get control of his anger. "I don't care if he was screwing you before, during or after our relationship. You're both going to die tonight."

"What is to become of Jamila? They aren't going to hurt her, are they?" Dorothy was heartsick to think of any more harm coming to the innocent girl who probably knew nothing but beatings at the hands of her own mother.

"She is the key to this whole thing! Winner has arranged for his entire fortune to be left to her in trust should anything happen to him. Naturally, her mother would be given control of the trust."

"And since you have befriended Hassan Barak and are helping him in this escapade, you will be getting a slice of the pie?"

"A very generous helping."

"You think you're going to be able to enjoy it? The police probably already know that you are involved."

"With the kind of money they are giving me, I can go anywhere and do anything. You've already ruined my reputation on Earth, but I'm quite sure that with Barak's recommendation, I can find a way to live comfortably on L4, especially after Barak deposes Mahmad Al-Jazar." He waved the gun toward the door. "Yaqob is waiting in the salon. He will tell you exactly what to say, and I suggest you do not alter from the script. The safety of that little girl is depending on your actions."

Dorothy had little choice but to do as they said. But she had no intention of peacefully submitting to any kind of execution. Jamila's safety depended on her, just as Randolph Morrison had said, and she would do as they instructed her. After that she would find a way to escape with Jamila.

__

"Are you sure that you want to stay here?" Heero Yuy was standing in beside the taxi that would take him to the airport. "It's damn cold in Geneva this time of year."

After working with Heero for the last six weeks, Dorothy could almost call him a friend. The dozen times she had reported to him in person, giving him names and revealing the plans that her grandfather's former associates had made to dismantle the Earth Sphere United Nations, Dorothy read the blatant mistrust in his eyes. Reprising her role as General Catalonia's fanatic daughter had been difficult, but Dorothy accepted it as a necessary evil. No one suspected that she was a spy. She was confident that the men and women who had been arrested did not even guess that she had been behind it. 

At first Dorothy had refused to be a part of the undercover operation, but after giving it some thought, she realized that leaving her home and going to Switzerland could be incorporated in the story she would tell when she returned with a baby and no husband. Her mother had loved to ski and so her father had purchased a quaint chalet in the mountains. Dorothy had never been there, but she had heard her mother speak fondly of it. Her grandfather once remarked that it was strategically located near civilization but far enough away to be private.

"I like to ski," she lied to Heero. Dorothy had never been skiing in her life although she had lived at a boarding school near Geneva. "I'm sure Relena is looking forward to your return."

Heero raised a brow. Dorothy realized that she probably shouldn't have brought up something so personal. "She's visiting L3 and will be there for another week. Then she will be making a scheduled stop at L2."

Dorothy rubbed her hands together then pulled on her leather gloves before drawing the fur-lined hood of her parka over her head. "Well, I guess you should be going. Your taxi is waiting."

He glanced at the taxi, then back at her. "What about that guy you mentioned? Are you meeting him? Is that why you are staying?"

She blushed, mostly because she had hinted to him about her fictitious lover and was embarrassed about the deception. What she had told him could apply to Quatre Winner anyway, so she didn't really feel as though she had lied. Heero Yuy could interpret her embarrassment as confirmation, but she wasn't going to say so. Dorothy felt guilty enough about the subterfuge without resorting to outright lies. 

When she didn't respond, he frowned. "I guess that was a rude question. I just wanted to be sure you would be all right here. There are some people who might connect your freedom with the sudden incarceration of the Romefeller traitors."

"I'll be all right," Dorothy told him. "I attended school here, so I have friends nearby. Don't worry about me, Heero Yuy."

He snorted derisively as he pulled open the door of the cab and settled inside. "You are the last woman I would worry about, Dorothy Catalonia. Don't break your neck skiing." With that, he pulled the door shut, and the taxi pulled away from the curb soon after.

She stayed in Geneva for a couple more weeks during which time she saw a doctor who told her that she was in excellent health and that her pregnancy was proceeding normally. Dr. Richter was a handsome young man who didn't see anything amiss with flirting with a woman almost five months pregnant, so she guessed that he did so with all his patients. Dorothy was flattered, but not interested. She made an appointment to return in a month, then set out for her family chalet.

The old caretaker couple viewed her suspiciously when she arrived to claim her mother's property. They had come to think of the chalet as their own, believing that the balance of the Dermail family had been wiped out during the war and would never return to the chalet. Dorothy was able to convince them of her identity and that she would deed them the chalet when she left in the spring. They were relieved, first because of the uncertainty of living in a home that did not belong to them, and second because Dorothy wasn't as demanding as her grandfather and mother had been while staying at the chalet. Greta and Albert Huffmann saw to her every need, and before long they relaxed together almost like a family in the cozy chalet. 

Soon enough she had admitted to Greta what happened to her although she didn't reveal the name of the baby's father. Greta clucked over her like a mother hen thereafter. Dorothy imagined that she knew how it felt to have a mother from the attention she got from the old woman. The first time she felt the baby move inside her, Dorothy shared it with Greta and the woman was just as delighted as Dorothy had been. 

Dorothy didn't think she could be any happier. Each time she felt the baby, she imagined what her little boy or girl would look like, and her heart filled with joy. After a month, Dorothy returned to Geneva for her doctor's appointment, and the doctor did an ultrasound to determine an exact date of delivery. She was amazed to see the tiny baby on the monitor, as Dr. Richter pointed out important details, not the least of which was the sex of her baby. 

After finding out that she would have a girl, Dorothy spared no expense in purchasing items for her daughter that she arranged to have shipped back to her house with instructions for the maid to place them in the nursery. Later, as she walked in a shopping center, she paused to look at dresses for little girls and imagined her blond, blue-eyed daughter wearing them. She felt as if she were walking on a cloud.

Shortly before leaving the shopping center, she got the unpleasant sensation that she was being watched, but looking around her, there were many people shopping that she couldn't pick out any one person that might be stalking her. Dorothy considered the possibility that there were men and women who might retaliate against her for working with the Preventers, but dismissed it because she was certain that the worst of the rebels had been rounded up and arrested. 

The feeling that she was being followed persisted when she left Geneva. Looking in the rearview mirror, she did note that a car had followed her from the moment she left the shopping center, but shortly before she made her turn to take the road to the secluded chalet, the limousine passed her and continued on. Although she was relieved, she was trembling when she arrived back at the house. Greta hustled her off to bed for rest while Albert left to find out if anyone had come up the road. Dorothy wasn't able to calm down until he returned to report that he hadn't seen anyone. Dorothy couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching her.

By the time another month passed, Dorothy had almost forgotten her fears, but when she went to Geneva for her monthly check-up, Greta and Albert insisted upon accompanying her. While Dorothy met with the doctor, Greta sat in the waiting room with her husband. Dr. Richter thought they might be her parents at first because of their genuine concern for her. The old couple was actually the closest she had come to having parents, and she was grateful because now was the time that she needed someone to give her some support. 

The baby was growing normally, so Dorothy took the opportunity to shop for some maternity clothing since she had finally outgrown every loose article of clothing that she owned. Greta was delighted to join her on the shopping excursion while Albert left to pick up supplies for the chalet. Dorothy bought mostly comfortable clothing that she could wear while lounging around at the chalet, and she purchased a few gifts for Greta too before they went to a restaurant to meet Albert for lunch before they would head back to the chalet. 

While they were waiting for Albert, and Greta was suggesting names for the baby, Dorothy glanced at a table nearby and saw that a man was reading the newspaper. She was about to turn her attention back to Greta to give her opinion about one of the names she had proposed when she noticed a picture on the society page that made her heart feel as though it had been crushed. There was a picture of Quatre Winner beside the picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman. Although she didn't want the pain that she would feel, Dorothy asked the maitre d' to bring her a copy of the day's paper. Greta watched her curiously as she pretended to study some news articles, and Dorothy wondered how she managed to keep her hands from shaking when she finally turned to the society page. The article was actually gossip hinting about a relationship between the two, and yet when Dorothy saw the name beneath the picture of the very young, very beautiful woman, she felt nauseous. Sadirah Barak. 

Dorothy barely heard Greta ask if she were feeling sick, pointing out that she looked pale. She read the article, noting that Quatre was still on L4 and that his business manager's daughter had spent her vacation from school with the eligible tycoon at his home before returning to boarding school in Geneva recently. The writer of the article hinted that the bachelor had curbed his wild, hedonistic behavior and that perhaps cupid had hit him with an arrow. Dorothy tried not to be depressed as she realized he had probably fallen in love with the young woman he was destined to marry. 

Scanning the article for the name of the school to which Sadirah Barak had returned, Dorothy was surprised to note that she had attended the same school in Geneva. Dorothy thought it strangely coincidental that she had chosen to hide during her pregnancy in the same general area that Quatre's future wife attended school. Although she had planned to shop a little longer, Dorothy decided to return to the chalet. Neither Greta nor her husband seemed to mind. 

The following weeks Dorothy tried not to think of Quatre with the other woman, but she couldn't help causing herself the pain. She wished that she could turn back time so that she could refuse to have anything to do with Quatre Raberba Winner. In fact, if she had it all to do over again, she wouldn't have gone to Barbados at all. And yet, when she sat by herself, reading a book or listening to music and she would feel her baby move, Dorothy knew that she would do it all again just to experience the joy of carrying her daughter. 

The next doctor's appointment, Greta accompanied her to Geneva, but she went shopping while Dorothy saw the doctor. Dr. Richter seemed strangely distracted, but he apologized, saying that he had been up late the night before delivering a baby. While he examined her, his brows were drawn together in a frown that Dorothy did not find at all comforting. He left the examining room for several minutes, and when he returned carrying a file, he was looking very serious. He informed her that her blood pressure had risen, and she had traces of protein in her urine, and although Dorothy hadn't noticed, he pointed out that her ankles were swollen and that she was starting to retain water. All were symptoms of a complication that wasn't altogether uncommon. Dorothy couldn't believe that he was telling her that she was having problems when she felt perfectly healthy. But he ordered her to see him in another week and if the symptoms persisted, he would give her some medication for treatment. 

Dorothy returned home in a daze. For the next week, she was very careful about her activity and her diet, and she got plenty of rest. But on her next trip to the doctor, Dr. Richter informed her gently that the symptoms had gotten worse, that he would try medication as a last resort before sending her to the hospital for observation. Greta was just as upset as Dorothy was about the sudden problem, but she was a great comfort to her. Despite following the doctor's instructions and taking the medication, Dorothy began to feel sick, and only a few days passed since her last appointment before she decided to return to Geneva again. She was only a few weeks from full term, but Dr. Richter didn't think either she or the baby would make it if they waited any longer. 

So she checked into the hospital. Dorothy briefly considered calling Relena Peacecraft or even Heero Yuy to let them know the danger she was in, but Greta talked her out of it, wisely pointing out that she would regret revealing her secret once she was out of danger. Dorothy could barely concentrate as Dr. Richter explained the procedure to her, that he would be inducing labor to attempt a normal delivery. If either her or the baby showed any signs of distress, he would surgically deliver her. 

The contractions began shortly after the nurse started the intravenous drip. Greta stayed with her for most of the day until the delivery drew nearer, then the doctor suggested she wait with her husband in the lounge. Dorothy would have felt better having someone with her, but she had little time to think about it as the contractions became stronger and closer together. The nurse offered to add a pain-reducing drug to her intravenous drip, but Dorothy shook her head. She wanted to see her daughter immediately when she was born, and she didn't want to be groggy from drugs. 

After what seemed like hours of agony, the doctor finally said, "It's almost time." 

Dorothy wept tears of relief and joy as she realized her daughter would soon be born. 

"On the next contraction, you can push," the nurse said.

The contraction came, and Dorothy concentrated her energies into pushing, but nothing seemed to happen. The nurse checked her pulse, then connected a monitor. On the next contraction, she pushed again with all her might until Dr. Richter ordered her to stop. Dorothy was beginning to feel light-headed, and the room seemed to be spinning around her.

"What...what is happening, doctor?" she asked although her voice sounded strangely slurred.

Dr. Richter came around the side of the bed. Although another contraction came, she was too weak to push. She felt as if her strength were draining away. 

"Dorothy, I'm going to have to operate."

Dorothy felt another contraction, but she couldn't do anything more than raise her hand and lay it on her distended abdomen where she could feel her baby move. Suddenly the lights dimmed and she had the sensation that she was falling a long way into a black, bottomless pit.

When he returned to the hotel suite with Heero, Quatre discovered that Sadirah had already left, taking with her all of her baggage. He thought he should feel some sense of loss after they had lived as husband and wife for four years, but he felt only relief. He could not imagine continuing their marriage even one more day after what he had learned of her treatment of Jamila. According to Rashid, she had gone to stay with her father, taking with her a handful of men who were more loyal to her than to Quatre. 

Heero hadn't said a word about his wife's disappearance, but had gone immediately to the telephone to make a call while Quatre told Rashid what had happened. Rashid felt responsible for not stopping Jamila from running away in the first place, but he didn't comment on whether he believed that Dorothy had used the opportunity to hold Jamila for ransom. Quatre didn't think that Dorothy would hurt Jamila, but she also would not return her unless Quatre followed her instructions. 

After hanging up the phone, Heero turned to Quatre. "The bullet in the wall came from Dorothy Catalonia's own gun. Forensics also found blood on the bullet that doesn't match hers."

"You have this kind of information on file for everyone?" asked Quatre incredulously.

"Only for Preventer agents. I also received news that the other man you sent to Switzerland turned up on a flight back here."

"Yaqob has returned?" Quatre was relieved that he didn't have to deal with the death of yet another of his employees. He turned to look at Rashid. "Why didn't you tell me he had returned? What does he know about Salim's death?"

Rashid shook his head. "Yaqob has not returned here."

Quatre sighed. "He is one of Sadirah's men? He was one of the men that guarded my father." Quatre was disheartened to realize that his men had been so divided and yet he had never noticed. He wasn't sure whom he should trust anymore.

"He was the brother of Sadirah's mother," Rashid told Quatre. "Many of the men that left with her have some connection with the Barak family."

Quatre sat on the sofa, then rested his head in his hands. "How could I let this happen? First Dorothy, now Sadirah."

"You're a bad judge of women," remarked Heero. "And getting worse by the minute."

"I can't believe Dorothy is doing this to me," he said aloud. 

"I _don't _believe she is doing this to you," Heero said.

Quatre looked at him. "But..."

"I seem to know Dorothy better than you do. She would never harm your daughter, nor would she use a child as a pawn. I would guess that she fired her gun at the house to protect Jamila. But if you would rather believe the worst of her..." Heero shrugged and left the sentence hanging.

Quatre didn't want to believe the worst of Dorothy, but how could he continue to trust her when all the evidence proved that she was guilty. He couldn't ignore the fact that she had left the house with Randolph Morrison, that Morrison had used her money in activities that probably included building a mobile doll factory on X7350. Barak had warned him against believing that running into Dorothy in Barbados was a coincidence. Had she learned of his trip to Barbados, then followed him? Perhaps she had purposely chosen to dine at that particular restaurant knowing that he was going to be there as well? Had she enticed him and seduced him when he believed the opposite was true? She would have to be incredibly clever to pull it off as she had, and yet he knew the daughter of General Catalonia and granddaughter of Duke Dermail could do it just as Barak had insinuated.

The doorbell rang, and instead of the maid answering, Rashid went to the door to open it revealing Hassan Barak accompanied by two men. Rashid stepped aside to let him in. 

"Have you heard anything?" asked Barak tersely.

"Not yet." Quatre felt uncomfortable knowing that Sadirah had left him and gone to her father. The older man's dark eyes met his, and Quatre had to look away from the disappointment he saw reflected. No doubt Sadirah had bruises to show him, and Quatre felt remorse for having hurt her. Sadirah needed some counseling to manage her temper with Jamila. She certainly didn't need him to prove that violence was acceptable in his house.

"What do you know about Yaqob bin Haroon?" Heero suddenly asked Barak.

Barak reluctantly took his piercing gaze from Quatre and turned to look at Heero. "He is my late wife's brother."

"Do you know what he was doing in Switzerland?"

"I sent him to Switzerland," Rashid spoke up. 

Heero looked at him. "Why did you choose him?"

"What does this have to do with that madwoman kidnapping my granddaughter?" demanded Barak angrily.

Calmly raising a brow, Heero said, "You tell me."

"This is getting us no where," interrupted Quatre, stepping between the two men. "We shouldn't be arguing about something that has nothing to do with Jamila's abduction."

"Does Yaqob carry a gun?" continued Heero as if he hadn't heard him.

"All my men carry guns," Quatre answered. He could see that his father-in-law was becoming agitated by Heero's harassment. "They have special licenses because of their unique position as my bodyguards."

"Convenient," was all that Heero said. He continued to stare at Barak as if trying to read his mind. 

Shaking his head, Quatre crossed the room and stepped out onto the balcony where he pulled out a cigar, lit it and watched the sun sinking in the west. Rashid had followed him and was standing a few feet away also watching the sun. 

Quatre glanced at him after a few moments of smoking in silence. "What are your thoughts, my old friend?"

Rashid didn't look at him. "I am not sure what I should believe." He released a long sigh. "Master Quatre, I didn't want to send Yaqob to Switzerland with Salim, but Mr. Barak recommended him because he had some old friends to look up from the days when his niece attended school near Geneva."

What did all this mean? "Is it possible that Dorothy had some contact with Sadirah in Switzerland?"

Rashid looked as if he wanted to say more, but Barak stepped out onto the balcony with them. Rashid bowed his head and slipped back into the suite. 

Barak spoke immediately once Rashid was inside. "I do not know what your friend was trying to imply about Yaqob, but I am offended by his questions."

"Heero is a Preventer agent. He is suspicious of everyone." Except Dorothy, thought Quatre. Heero put a lot of faith in her. But he hadn't given his heart and soul to her only to have her leave him without a word. The next time Quatre saw her, she was spying on him for the Preventers. 

"He will back Dorothy Catalonia. She is one of them."

Quatre looked at him. "What are you suggesting that I do?"

"When that woman calls, keep the Preventer from becoming involved. This matter is private, between you and her." Barak reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. He held it out to Quatre, handle first. "You will need this."

Quatre stared at the gun for a moment, his stomach churning unpleasantly. Although his men carried weapons, Quatre had not even touched one since the war. He looked at Barak's face. "I couldn't do it."

Barak raised a brow. "Not even to protect your daughter? You don't know what that woman is capable of if she doesn't get what she wants."

Quatre shook his head. "I can't shoot the gun."

The door to the suite slid open and Quatre could hear the telephone ringing as Heero stood in the entrance. Heero cocked his head inside, and after Quatre followed him in, he waited anxiously as the maid crossed the room to pick up the phone. 

She didn't even have a chance to use a greeting before she turned to look at Quatre. "The call is for you, Mr. Winner."

When Quatre took the phone, his hand was shaking. "Miss Dorothy, is it you? Is Jamila with you?"

Dorothy's voice was calmly cold on the other end of the line. "You have one hour to meet me at the Dermail Mansion. I suggest that you come alone or the consequences could be quite unpleasant for the little Winner princess."

"Dorothy..." He didn't have a chance to say any more before the line went dead. 

As he replaced the phone, Heero asked, "Where is she?"

Quatre glanced at Barak first, then looked back at Heero. "She didn't say. She will call in the morning with further instructions. For the time being, she is safe."

"I will inform my daughter." Barak headed to the door.

"I need to get out of here." Quatre followed him, and when Rashid and Heero tried to follow, he shook his head. "I'll be back after a short drive. You should stay here in case she calls again."

Both men looked skeptical, but Quatre ignored them as he left with Barak. Neither spoke until they were alone in the elevator. "I have to meet her within the hour or she will hurt Jamila." 

Barak smiled grimly as he reached into his jacket to withdraw the gun. "To protect Jamila, I think you could do anything. Including taking care of Dorothy Catalonia once and for all."

Taking the gun, Quatre knew that Barak was right. He couldn't let Dorothy hurt his daughter, and if he had to, he would put an end to Dorothy Catalonia's schemes the only way she seemed to understand.

__


	14. Chapter 14

****

Chapter 14

There was little traffic on the highway on the way to the Dermail Mansion on the outskirts of the city. Quatre was relieved because in his state of mind, he doubted he could deal rationally with bad drivers. As it was, he drove too fast and weaved carelessly around cars that got in his way. All he could think about was what he was probably going to do and how broken his heart had become. He had fallen in love with Dorothy Catalonia a long time ago, and not a day had gone by since she left him that he didn't feel as though a part of him had gone with her. If he was forced to kill her tonight, he didn't know how he would be able to go on.

When he arrived at the Dermail estate, the high, cast iron gates were closed, but as he pulled up into the drive, he didn't have a chance to open the window to press the security intercom before the gates swung slowly open. The approach to the mansion took him through a wooded area that was eerily dark, but as the trees thinned and blended into a poorly tended lawn, Quatre could see the mansion looming in the distance, dark and foreboding. He half-expected bats to fly out from the turrets and the dragon shaped gutter spouts to spread their wings and take to the skies. Quatre shuddered as he imagined Dorothy growing up in such a place. Was it any wonder that she had evolved into the unstable woman she had become?

As he drew closer to the mansion, he saw that a couple of rooms on the lower level were lit, but the rest of the sprawling structure was shrouded in darkness. This was so surreal that Quatre caught himself hoping he would awaken from this nightmare. 

Pulling the car to a stop, Quatre reached into his leather jacket pocket to reassure himself that he would have easy access to the gun. For a few moments, he sat in the dark car outside the main entrance to the residence of the Dermail family and convinced himself that what he had to do was necessary. Before leaving to inform Sadirah of what Dorothy had demanded, Barak reminded Quatre that Dorothy had proven herself untrustworthy. Even if he did give in to her demands, she probably wouldn't be satisfied until she had destroyed him completely. Barak didn't realize that she already had.

The double front doors were not locked. Stepping inside the huge vaulted ceiling foyer, Quatre was struck by the wealth that it must have taken to build the Dermail Mansion. The family had supplied armies on both sides of wars for generations with the weapons needed to continue the conflicts. In the last war, they had overstepped their power by inciting the war themselves when it had appeared that humanity was on the brink of understanding that peace was preferable to the devastation and misery caused by war. That had been the beginning of their decline. Tonight would probably complete the process.

Few lights illuminated the obvious path he was expected to take toward what appeared to be a library. Slipping his hand in his pocket to grip the gun, Quatre moved through the open door and stopped just inside the room. The large room was ringed with high shelves containing many old volumes of books, and the musty odor of disuse mingled with the old leather book coverings and a faint lemon scent from the wax the made the wooden floors shine. 

Looking ahead, he saw her sitting behind a huge mahogany desk that was set before a large window. He was disoriented to see her wearing her OZ uniform, and looking at her face, he hoped to see some sign that she might yet come to her senses. But she stared straight ahead at him with no emotion, and he had difficulty believing that only two nights ago they had been together as intimately as a man and woman could. She must have been planning this even then. Her hands were under the desk, so Quatre assumed she was holding a gun, the gun she had fired at her house. 

"I am here," he said as he came to stop in the middle of the room. "Where is my daughter?"

Dorothy turned her head to the side, and from behind the thick velvet drapes that lined the window, Jamila stepped out. Clutching a teddy bear to her, she walked toward Dorothy. When she reached her side, Jamila turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide, and she seemed to be pale. Quatre knew that she must be terrified, and he was infuriated that Dorothy would put her through this. 

"Are you all right, Jamila?" he asked her gently.

Jamila nodded, but she glanced at Dorothy and seemed to want to say something, but Quatre saw Dorothy shake her head. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye and she clutched the teddy bear closer, burying her face in the plush toy.

"What do you want?" Quatre demanded angrily. His heart ached to see Jamila's distress. 

Dorothy didn't speak for a moment, then she said, "Financing the takeover of a government is rather expensive. At the moment, I am a little short of the funds, so I will need a little help."

"What kind of help are you talking about?"

"Does it matter?" She raised a brow. "Have you actually determined the highest price you will pay for Jamila's release?"

"Of course not! I'd give it all up to get her back safely." Quatre couldn't believe she would ask such a question. He took a step closer to the desk, but she didn't move or threaten him with the gun he was sure she was hiding. 

"I want the access code to your accounts," she said coolly.

Quatre took another step forward, and still she didn't do so much as flinch. "You have completely lost your mind, Dorothy! I have no intention of giving someone like you access to the fortune my family has spent generations building in pursuits other than war."

"Someone like me?" she repeated. She bowed her head for a moment, so Quatre took the opportunity to pull out the gun. 

"No, papa!" Jamila threw her arms around Dorothy to shield her from him. "Do not hurt, Miss Dorothy!"

"Move away from her, Jamila, before she hurts you." Quatre held the gun steady on Dorothy. "Let her go, Miss Dorothy."

She raised a brow and glanced down at the little girl holding her tightly, having dropped the teddy bear to the floor. Quatre frowned as he realized that Dorothy wasn't holding Jamila at all. She had completely manipulated the four-year old to help her. 

"My aim is better than you think," he warned her although his hand was visibly shaking. If he didn't get control of his emotions, he was going to end up shooting himself. 

"If you value your daughter's safety, then I suggest you give me the code." Although Jamila was sobbing against her bosom, Dorothy hadn't taken her eyes from him, and her complete emotional detachment helped him recapture his purpose. 

"I'm not a fool, Dorothy," he told her as he tried to aim the gun. Seeing her in the sights made his resolve waiver again. How could he shoot her? Memories of her crashed through his mind, one after another, of the confused girl that had challenged and defeated him on the Libra, the vulnerable young woman that had placed herself in his hands in Barbados as she revealed her heart to him. He couldn't love any woman as much as he loved her. Could she have planned that as well? Was she that devious?

Jamila turned her face to look at him. His daughter blindly trusted her. Why couldn't he? 

Before he could find an answer to the question, the drapery from which Jamila had emerged moved again, but this time Randolph Morrison stepped out. In his hand he held a gun.

"This is really taking too much time, Mr. Winner." Quatre couldn't react fast enough to prevent him from reaching Dorothy and Jamila. Morrison seized a handful of Dorothy's hair, jerked her head back and shoved the barrel of the gun against her temple. "I don't have all night, Winner. Put the gun on the floor and kick it over here unless you want her brains on the walls."

His heart dropped into his stomach as Quatre realized that Dorothy was as much a prisoner as Jamila. Her hands were on the desk now, and he could see that they were tied at the wrists with rope. The smirk on Morrison's face convinced Quatre that he wouldn't think twice about killing Dorothy, and then Jamila would be in his power. 

Placing the gun on the floor, he put his foot on it and gave it a push that sent it sliding across the waxed surface so that it came to a stop just before the desk. He then put his hands up. "Let them go," he said more calmly than he felt. "I'll give you the codes when they have gone."

Morrison snorted derisively. "You'll give me the codes, and then I'll let the brat go. As for Miss Dorothy," He caressed her cheek with the barrel of the gun before moving it down to jam into her ribs below her left breast. "She broke your heart, Winner. Seems like a fitting place to put the bullet just before you take your own life."

"Leave Miss Dorothy alone!" shouted Jamila as she launched herself at Morrison. When he struck her face with the back of his hand, Dorothy suddenly shot up from the chair and swung the fist she had made with her clasped hands, but she didn't aim for his face. She hit his shoulder, and Morrison howled with pain and stumbled back, the gun dropping from his hand. Dorothy bolted from the chair, and although her hands were tied, she managed to grab a handful of Jamila's clothing, and she was able to pull her up from the floor.

"The gun!" she shouted to Quatre as she stumbled to the door, dragging his daughter with her.

Quatre scrambled for the gun several feet away and managed to get it just as Morrison reached the gun that had fallen from his hand. He saw that there was blood seeping into the cloth of Morrison's jacket where Dorothy had struck him. Quatre realized that Dorothy must have shot Morrison at her house before he took both her and Jamila prisoner. But if he had been shot, how did Morrison manage to subdue Dorothy?

"Step away from the gun," he ordered Morrison. Remembering how he had threatened Dorothy and struck Jamila, Quatre had to force himself not to empty his gun into the man. But he could not mete out justice. That was for the authorities.

Quatre reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone, which he was able to snap open and turn on as he kept the gun on Morrison. He was about to press the button to dial the emergency number when the door to the library opened and Hassan Barak walked in accompanied by Yaqob bin Haroon. 

Sighing with relief, Quatre shut the phone and turned to his father-in-law. "I was about to call the police to arrest Morrison."

Barak flipped out his own phone, dialed a number, and then said, "She has left the library. Jamila is with her." Without saying anything to Quatre, he turned to the hulking form of his brother-in-law. "Yaqob, go find them."

Quatre watched him leave the room, then turned back to Barak. "Miss Dorothy doesn't have anything to do with Jamila's kidnapping. Randolph Morrison was behind it all."

"I know." He held out his gloved hand. "You had better give me the gun before the authorities get here."

Not wanting to touch the gun any longer than necessary, he handed it over and was suddenly alarmed by Morrison's outburst of laughter.

"You are a fool!" exclaimed Morrison with a snort and started around the desk toward them. He didn't seem at all worried about Barak holding the gun on him. "I'll take the gun and kill that bitch first." He winced as he moved his bleeding shoulder. "I owe her."

When Morrison reached for the gun, Barak raised it and fired. There was a surprised look on Morrison's face as he fell back on the floor with a hole in his head. A wave of nausea rolled through Quatre, but he swallowed it back and took his attention from the profusely bleeding corpse on the floor. 

Barak turned to face him. "We will have to wait a few moments before finishing. With forensic technology as it is, I might find it difficult to explain how you could be dead before Dorothy Catalonia if you are to be the one who kills her."

Quatre looked from the body on the floor to his father-in-law. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you really so naive, Master Quatre?"

Quatre didn't want to believe what was becoming clear to him. "You planned this?"

Barak gave him a self-congratulatory smile and nod. "I don't think I did too badly considering the short amount of time I had to work with. I thought I was going to be able to wait until we returned to L4 and you discovered the existence of the mobile doll factory on X7350."

"That was your doing?" Quatre shouldn't be surprised, but he was.

"Very careful planning went into building that factory. I found unrealized plans for it in the hidden archives of Duke Dermail. I was able to send them through traceable channels from Dorothy Catalonia's accounts to Mahmad Al-Jazar, although she never really sent them and he never actually received them or knows anything about the factory. But I was able to implicate them, both for you to mistrust them and for the Preventers to be thrown off the track."

Quatre stared at him incredulously. "I trusted you!"

"So said your father, but he never trusted me enough to give me complete access to his accounts. Every decision I made, he second guessed me. When I tired of his meddling in my handling of the business, I turned to OZ." Barak sighed and shook his head. "That was a mistake on my part. I thought I could persuade your father to become their ally, but he stubbornly refused, and he died without giving me the means to join OZ. Instead, they turned on me, took my wife and daughter, torturing them until Sadirah's mother took her own life rather than live with the shame of what they had done to her. You don't want to know what they did to Sadirah."

"You are blaming my family for what happened?" Outraged, he clenched his fists impotently at his side, very much aware that Barak held the gun. "You brought that on yourself! And if my father didn't trust you, he was obviously a better judge of character than I gave him credit for."

Barak shrugged. "In the end, I will come out ahead, and you will be gone. I had decided that I would see you married to Sadirah, that it was the least the Winner family could do after how she had suffered. But just when she was on the brink of womanhood and promising to be the stunning beauty that she has become, Dorothy Catalonia had to step into the picture."

"If you are talking about Barbados, she stepped out of the picture and I did marry Sadirah, just as you wanted." Quatre glanced toward the desk, and on the floor, he saw another gun, the one Morrison had been holding. If he kept Barak talking long enough, perhaps he would relax his diligence and Quatre would be able to make a dash for it.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you now since you won't be seeing the light of dawn anyway." Barak's smile was sickening. "You don't remember anything about that night, when we closed the deal in Barbados. That is because I added something special to your drink, and I paid some lovely young ladies who were already intimately acquainted with you to take you home. I'm afraid Miss Dorothy wasn't too happy with about the private party you had with them."

Quatre didn't think the man could stoop any lower. "Why didn't she give me a chance to explain? Was that your doing too?"

"As I suspected, her pride sent her running home, so I found her at the airport and explained to her that you would soon be marrying my daughter. She seemed to realize that you had no intention of extending the relationship beyond the trip to Barbados, that she was just a casual encounter on your vacation, one of many, I might add."

"You told her that?!" Quatre took a step toward him, but Barak leveled the gun at him, reminding him who had the power. "Knowing how I felt, you deliberately kept us apart!"

"I was afraid you would go to Earth to see her in person," Barak continued to explain. "So I sent for Sadirah, hoping that you would find her irresistible..."

"She was little more than a child!" Quatre was furious to realize that Barak had used Sadirah to seduce him.

"That didn't really matter to you, did it?" Barak sneered at him contemptuously. 

"I don't remember that night. You drugged me then, too, didn't you?"

"Does it matter? I didn't hear you complaining these last few years to have my daughter at your side."

"Only for Jamila's sake," Quatre told him. "I have never felt a connection to Sadirah."

"What differences does it make how Jamila came into being? Once you are gone, she will be a very wealthy child, and I will be taking on the role of her guardian."

If Quatre hadn't had Jamila tested thoroughly, he wouldn't believe she was his, especially knowing now what he did about Barak's scheming. "So you planned this little rendezvous at the Dermail Mansion with Dorothy and Randolph Morrison?"

"I told you, I had to act fast. When you told me that you were leaving Sadirah, I knew something had to be done. You don't actually believe that I would let that OZ bitch take my daughter's place? She was starting to discover the threads of my plans, and I didn't really want her pulling them and unraveling my hard work. Jamila provided the means to dispose of Morrison who was getting greedy, Dorothy Catalonia who was getting a little too close to the truth for comfort, and you who are no longer essential to my plans."

"Which are?" Quatre glanced again toward the gun. He gauged it about three steps away near the wall.

"After the destabilization of Al-Jazar's government, I hope to step in with the same type of leadership that the Winner family has given L4. I realize there will be an unpleasant scandal when the press reports how you confronted your whore and her lover in their scheme to kidnap your daughter. You shot and killed them both, then took your own life."

"You think that story is plausible?"

"Why wouldn't anyone believe it? Rashid will report that you were having an affair with Dorothy Catalonia. The Preventers know about that as well. You didn't even tell Heero Yuy where you were going when you left. I'm sure he will think that you were coldly planning your revenge and didn't want him in the way."

Barak had everything planned to the last detail. Quatre had to give the man some grudging credit for how well the plan was turning out. "Did you also order the hit on Atifah?"

"I had paid that fool Khalid to kill both her and Dorothy Catalonia. I had forgotten that Dorothy Catalonia was a Preventer agent and would probably use her instincts to avoid the attack."

"Why did you kill Atifah? Because he knew that Sadirah was beating Jamila?" 

Barak frowned. "Atifah overheard something that she shouldn't have. Let's just leave it at that."

Quatre might have questioned him further, had his phone not begun ringing. The distraction was enough for him to take two steps toward the gun, then dive and roll on the floor just as Barak fired two shots at him. He almost missed grabbing the abandoned gun, but he was able to seize the handle, then roll behind the desk. 

"You're not going to escape," Barak warned him. "And even if you do, I have the gun registered in your name. Morrison is dead, and Dorothy Catalonia will be as well, with bullets fired by your gun. Do you think anyone will believe the story of an insanely jealous man?"

Quatre checked the gun for bullets and saw that he had five remaining in the chamber. He quickly popped up and fired two in the direction Barak had been standing, but the man had moved, and before Quatre could redirect, Barak fired at him again. The bullet whizzed past his ear and shattered the glass of the window behind him. Quatre covered himself against the raining shards of glass, and noticed just barely in time that Barak had come around the desk. He rolled around the other side, stood and fired again. 

Barak stumbled back as a bullet lodged in his thigh.

Quatre straightened and aimed the gun at his chest. "Drop the gun."

Barak sneered at him. "You couldn't kill me, Quatre. You're a softhearted fool."

The door to the library opened again, and Quatre glanced toward it. He was not surprised to see Sadirah enter. Dressed entirely in black, she was carrying a gun. He had little doubt that she was here to help her father.

"Don't take another step," he warned her, "or I'm going to shoot him, and this time I'll take better aim."

Sadirah stared at Quatre speechlessly for a moment, then turned to look at her father, her head tilted in a strange angle as she looked at him wide-eyed. Before Quatre could react, she raised her gun and shot two bullets at him, one in his heart, the other in his head. Quatre looked away from the mess splattered against the wall after Barak's lifeless body collapsed into a heap to the floor.

"What are you going to do now that you have no bargaining chip?" she asked Quatre coolly.

Quatre's stomach was heaving, but he managed to point the gun at her. "I guess we are at an impasse."

"Not quite." She threw back her dark hair and called out. "Bring them in, Yaqob."

Yaqob returned to the library, herding Dorothy who hadn't managed to untie her hands. Jamila was holding his hand, trusting the giant man who was her mother's uncle. Seeing the carnage in the room, Jamila started to shriek hysterically.

"Shut up, you little bastard!" Sadirah swung around and struck the little girl with the hand holding the gun.

__

When Dorothy awoke, she felt weak and helpless, and the light from the windows was so blinding that she had to close her eyes again. Her head was aching, and she could barely lift it to see that she had an intravenous line. She could hear the steady beeping of a monitor, and she realized that she wasn't breathing on her own. She fought the rising panic and failed, and she could hear machine alarms go off as her heart rate rose dramatically. Although she could barely raise her hand, Dorothy tried to claw off the tubing from the respirator.

The door swung open, and a virtual army of nurses rushed in. Two held her down while another injected her with something that soon made her blood run cold and her nerves stop tingling. Although she was having difficulty focusing, Dorothy heard a nurse explain that they would remove the breathing tube now that she was awake. Although the procedure was momentarily painful, Dorothy couldn't move to protest and was relieved when it was accomplished. The nurses checked her pulse, poked and prodded her, but Dorothy didn't really feel as if she were there. Thankfully she drifted off to sleep.

Waking some time later in the afternoon, Dorothy felt strong enough to press the button for the nurse. A cheery, middle-aged woman bustled into the room, but Dorothy couldn't tell her immediately what she wanted, so the woman raised her bed so she could sit up, then handed her a glass of water. Dorothy drank enough so that her throat wouldn't be so dry.

"Can I see my baby?" she asked, her voice so hoarse that she could barely understand herself. 

The nurse's smile faded, and she seemed flustered, muttered something about getting the doctor and hurried out of the room. 

Dorothy stared at the closed door for a moment, then glanced out the window. She could see the mountains in the distance and the sun sinking behind the peaks. By the time the doctor arrived, the room was in complete darkness, not because Dorothy couldn't turn on the lights, but because she just didn't want them on.

Dr. Richter turned on a low lamp near the bed. "I checked on you earlier today while you were sleeping," he said as he looked over her chart. "You've made remarkable improvement since waking."

She wanted to ask him about her little girl, but Dorothy had a lump in her throat. If she asked, she would hear something she didn't want to hear. She had enough time to realize what had happened.

Dr. Richter stared at her, his brown gaze soft. He reached out to lay his hand over hers, which were twisted together on her flat belly. Dorothy barely listened to his long speech filled with medical terminology. He told her it was a miracle that she had survived, and that she had been in a coma for almost two weeks. 

Finally he said, "We couldn't save her, Dorothy. Sometimes despite all the technology at our disposal, we can't hold back death. I don't know what your beliefs are, Dorothy, but I'm sure your sweet little girl is an angel now."

Dorothy stared at him. She thought she should cry, but she felt numb and disoriented. "What...what has become of her?"

"Greta Huffmann took care of the arrangements," he told her. "She had a lovely service. Unfortunately, we weren't sure what you wished to name your daughter, so I took the liberty of giving her the name of Angelina Maria."

She looked at him. "You have an unhealthy obsession with angels, doctor."

One corner of his lips raised in a half-smile. "I have delivered quite a few since becoming a doctor. I haven't lost many, but I think I will remember Angelina Maria Catalonia for the rest of my life."

Dorothy didn't dwell on her loss. What was the use? She was back where she started except for the nagging feelings she had for Quatre Winner. When she was pregnant, she explained them as a consequence of carrying his child. She had thought they would be gone after losing the baby, but they lingered like a terminal illness. 

Greta and Albert visited her every day as they had been doing since she had lapsed into a coma. Greta was so saddened by Dorothy's loss that she was difficult to be around, and Albert was stoically silent. As her health improved, Dorothy was looking forward to leaving the hospital, but she didn't want to return to the family she had made with Greta and Albert. She needed some distance from them and the memories they stirred that were too difficult for her. Greta was beside herself with tears on the day Dorothy left the hospital because Dorothy had already made plans to take a flight back home. She needed to get on with her life. After Dorothy signed the deed to the chalet over to Greta and Albert, she hugged and kissed them goodbye.

Dr. Richter stopped in to see her before she left, checked her over and pronounced her fit. He told her that she shouldn't have any trouble if she chose to have another baby. Dorothy thought the odds of that were quite slim, but she didn't tell him so. He flirted with her all the way to the limousine that was waiting to take her to the airport. Before she left, he assured her that she need not worry that her secrets would safe with him. 

On the way to the airport, Dorothy directed the driver to the shopping center where she purchased some clothing. Most of what she owned did not fit because she had completely lost what remained of her slim figure. She had filled out in a way that made men turn their heads to look at her. Dorothy wasn't sure she liked the attention.

As she was leaving the shopping center, Dorothy suddenly noticed a small shop that she hadn't seen in her previous visits. Pausing to look in the glass windows, her attention was drawn by the figurine of an angel. Delicate and beautiful, the long, flowing hair of the angel seemed to be the same shade as sun-bleached hair that she couldn't get out of her mind and blue eyes the color of which haunted her dreams. A small placard with the artist's name and the name of the piece, Angelina Maria, almost made her smile when she realized that Dr. Richter must have seen the small statue. But Dorothy couldn't smile as she stared at the angel. For some reason, looking at the angel soothed the constant ache she felt in her heart. The salesclerk quoted her a price in an almost apologetic manner, and Dorothy paid twice the amount with no regret. When she held the angel in her hands, she didn't feel quite so alone. Maybe Dr. Richter was right, that her baby was an angel.

The first thing she had done upon returning home was to pack away everything that had been in the nursery. The maid didn't ask any questions, so Dorothy didn't offer any explanations. She donated the clothing to charity as well as most of the furniture, but she kept a few things just because she liked them. One teddy bear in particular remained because Dorothy had wanted one as a child and had never been given one. Her mother considered such toys frivolous and potentially filthy. Her father had given her a sword instead. A real sword, not a plastic replica, and the first thing she had done with it was accidentally cut her own fingers on the blade. Her parents weren't around anymore to tell her that she couldn't keep the teddy bear. 

She remained secluded in her home, sleeping off exhaustion and trying to regain some sense of purpose in her life. A few weeks after her return, she received a call from Relena informing her that she would be having supper with her that evening. Dorothy didn't have a chance to refuse before Relena hung up. Although she hadn't wanted to go out, she decided to meet Relena at the restaurant. Relena was sitting with Heero Yuy, and the two seemed so cozy that Dorothy almost turned on her heel and left, but Heero saw her and released Relena's hand which he had been holding so that he could leave the table to escort Dorothy.

Relena hugged her and kissed her cheeks. Standing back she said, "You look so much better than the last time I saw you."

The last time she had seen her, Dorothy had been suffering from morning sickness. "I'm feeling better."

"You didn't break your neck," Heero observed.

No, thought Dorothy, but her heart was completed severed in two pieces. "I needed to get away."

"You should have invited me," remarked Relena. "I could use the vacation. I would especially like to get that tan you had."

The waiter came by their table and Dorothy ordered a glass of wine. Dorothy felt more comfortable once she had drained half the glass, but she still preferred to be at home where it was quiet and dark. She had even considered reopening the Dermail Mansion. On the way to the restaurant she had driven by it and wondered if she might feel better in her old home. After all, she had purchased her new home only because she expected to raise a child there. She wouldn't have to worry about that now.

"I can't believe that Quatre Winner has gotten married and didn't invite any of us," she heard Relena say.

Dorothy tried not to look interested although her broken heart was beating so fast that she could barely breathe.

"Under the circumstances, I think he wanted to keep it quiet."

"What circumstances?" Dorothy wanted to finish her wine but she was sure they would see her hand shaking if she tried to raise the glass.

Relena laughed softly. "Quatre's been rather wild these past few years. I suppose with money and looks, you can get into all sorts of trouble."

Dorothy took a calming breath and remarked, "I read something about a relationship with his business manager's daughter."

"Sadirah Barak," said Relena with a nod. "I've seen pictures of her. She doesn't look sixteen. That would have made her fifteen when he got her pregnant."

"Fifteen," Dorothy repeated. She felt a mixture of emotions. Jealousy, disgust, relief. 

"They had a kid before the nuptials," commented Heero before taking a drink from his beer. He was watching Dorothy over the rim of his glass. 

The room seemed to close in around Dorothy, and she was afraid she was going to lose consciousness, but she managed to gain control of her emotions. "I think I read somewhere that the marriage had been arranged by both their parents some years ago."

"Odd for him to enjoy the honeymoon before the vows," said Heero. "I knew he was enjoying his bachelor status but I didn't think that included seducing innocent little girls."

Dorothy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She knew first hand that Quatre enjoyed seducing innocent little girls. Well, maybe she wasn't so little, but she had been innocent. Quatre hadn't seemed to have any kind of attack of conscience in Barbados, and given the date, Dorothy calculated that he must have gone straight to Sadirah Barak after he had returned from Barbados.

"So Quatre's a father." Relena raised her glass. "Let's have a toast. We all attended school together briefly, so I think it's appropriate. To Quatre's new life with his little girl."

"Which one?" asked Heero wryly. "His daughter or his wife?"

Dorothy didn't raise her glass, and she stood, thankful at least that she was able to do so. "You'll have to excuse me. I need to powder my nose."

Relena set aside her glass. "Shall I join you?"

Forcing a smile to her lips, Dorothy shook her head. "I'll be right back."

Once she was inside the powder room, Dorothy took several deep breaths to help force back the tears that were choking her. She called herself a fool a thousand times over for the feelings for Quatre that just wouldn't die, even now knowing that he had married another woman who had given him a child, the daughter that she thought she would hold in her arms. Dorothy was at the bottom of a very deep, dark pit, so very deep that she couldn't see even a pinpoint of light from above. 

After splashing her face with some water and reapplying her makeup, Dorothy at least felt composed enough to return to the table and tell Relena and Heero that she didn't feel well. On the way back to the table, she had to pass by a table where several men wearing expensive suits were in some deep discussion. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Dorothy turned to see that one of the men wasn't paying any attention, but was watching her. She looked away and continued toward the table, and she noticed that Heero and Relena were watching her with puzzled looks on their faces. His brows raised, Heero looked past her, and Dorothy turned to see that the man had followed her. 

He was good-looking in the usual way, and by his dress and the easy manner in which he carried himself, Dorothy knew he probably traveled in high social circles. But that kind of man wouldn't follow her like some eager teenager.

"Miss Darlian, I thought I saw you dining here." He stepped beside Dorothy to extend his hand to Relena. He was standing a bit close, but his warmth wasn't all that unpleasant. 

Relena stood and shook hands with him. "Mr. Sheffield, I didn't realize you were on Earth." She looked at Dorothy and Heero. "This is James Sheffield, attaché to the ambassador of L3 colony. We have worked together on several occasions. James, these are my friends, Heero Yuy and Dorothy Catalonia."

He shook hands with Heero. "Pleased to meet you. I don't think I need to tell you that I've heard quite a bit about you." When he took Dorothy's hand, he raised it to his lips and brushed a warm kiss to her knuckles. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Catalonia." His hazel eyes met hers briefly before he released her hand. 

Dorothy noticed Relena trying to hide a smile. The last thing she wanted was a romantic involvement, and certainly not the kind of romance a diplomatic attaché would offer. She barely listened to the small talk he made with Relena, and she was rather surprised that before he left, he turned to her and offered his card. 

"If you aren't busy, Miss Catalonia, I'd like to have lunch with you some time." He gave her a nod, then returned to his table.

"Now I know why you wanted to go to the powder room alone," Relena chided her as she resumed her seat. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Relena!" Dorothy had a clear view of the young man and she realized that he must have been watching them from his table. 

"He is perfect," declared Relena. "Quite handsome, good family..."

"Are you trying to marry her off?" asked Heero with a derisive snort. 

"Well, I have already guessed that her relationship with that other man..." She looked at Dorothy, "You never did tell us his name."

"I'm not going to either," she said. "And I don't need you to set me up with men." Dorothy stood. "I have lost my appetite. If you will excuse me, I will be heading home."

Heero grabbed her wrist and yanked her back down. "Relax. You don't have to plan the wedding just yet. Besides, that kind of guy just wants a girl to bang in this port."

"Heero!" Relena glared at him. "What kind of thing is that to say?"

"The truth."

Dorothy glanced at the other table. James Sheffield was watching her. Maybe that was what she needed to get her mind off her depression. 

"Are you interested in working with the Preventers on a more permanent basis?" asked Heero, changing the subject and drawing her attention. "Bill Morley, head of covert operations, was impressed with your performance in Switzerland."

"She doesn't want to be a spy," snapped Relena. She smiled at Dorothy. "I have a better idea. Just the other day the public relations director was complaining that his people were not well received by the old nobility here. He asked if I knew someone who might be able to handle those kinds of people."

"Is that why you invited me here?" Dorothy should have realized that they didn't really want to socialize with her.

"No. But as long as you actually came out of your cave, I thought I would ask. Are you interested in a career in public relations?"

Dorothy didn't know the first thing about public relations. But she was trained in the areas that mattered most to the Preventers. 

Relena handed her a card. "If you are interested, give him a call. I think that you would do a marvelous job."

Not to be outdone, Heero grabbed the card and scribbled a name and number on the back despite Relena's outraged gasp. "Call this one instead."

The rest of the dinner proceeded uneventfully, and Dorothy caught herself enjoying the night out. She was especially amused to see the sparks fly between Relena and Heero, and she was reminded of what a married old couple would be like. They disagreed on everything, up to and including the dessert they would share. Before she left, she agreed to get together with them again some time soon.

That night she slept better than she had for many days, and she realized it was because she had options for her life now. The following morning, she had a healthy appetite, surprising the maid with her request for a full breakfast. After showering and dressing, she searched inside her purse for the card she had carelessly tossed inside. The card she finally fished out was the card that James Sheffield had given her. Dorothy set it aside and found the other card. She glanced at both sides. It was a good day for a fresh start, so she called the public relations director's number, and getting his secretary, made an appointment for the afternoon. Dorothy wasn't sure she was doing the right thing, but it was better than doing nothing at all.

After hanging up the phone, she noticed the other card. Maybe it was time to make a fresh start all around. Remembering Heero's warning, Dorothy realized that James Sheffield was just the kind of man she needed: one that wouldn't try to touch her heart.

Acting without thinking, adrenaline rushing through her, Dorothy launched herself at Sadirah Barak although the other woman was still holding a gun and her own hands were tied together. She managed to strike her once, knocking her back, and feeling only mildly gratified to see blood pour from the corner of her mouth. Quatre raised his gun to shoot Sadirah, but another gunshot rang out, and the gun dropped from his hand as blood appeared on his upper arm. 

Yaqob was aiming the gun at him. "I am sorry, Master Quatre. I cannot allow you to hurt Miss Sadirah."

Quatre was shaking with anger as he reached up to touch the wound the man had made on his arm. His face was white, and Dorothy could see that he was in turmoil. His gaze went from her to Jamila who was lying unconscious on the floor, a bleeding gash on her head. "Did you see what she did?" he demanded of Yaqob.

Yaqob nodded slowly. "Perhaps you should go to Missy Jamila."

Dorothy started toward Jamila as did Quatre, but Sadirah grabbed a handful of her long hair and jerked her back. "Where do you think you are going, you bitch?"

Dorothy tried to twist from her hold, but Sadirah held her tightly before jamming the gun under her chin. If it hadn't already happened several times already that day, Dorothy might have felt some fear. As it was, she had concluded that if Sadirah could so cold-heartedly kill her own father, then she would certainly have no qualms about blowing off her head. 

"Aren't you afraid?" asked Sadirah.

Dorothy didn't blink as she met her eyes. "Afraid of you? Or afraid of death? The answer is no to both options. I've faced death before, and as for you, well you're just a lunatic holding a gun."

Sadirah gritted her teeth, and Dorothy could see that she was furious. "You think you are better than me, Dorothy Catalonia? How does it feel to know that Quatre Winner has been mine the last five years?"

"I'm still having a hard time getting past your obvious mental problems," remarked Dorothy.

Sadirah swung at her with the gun as she had Jamila, but Dorothy was expecting it, so she lunged at her and drove her shoulder into her belly. As Sadirah doubled over, Dorothy tried to get past her to get the gun Quatre had dropped. But Sadirah grabbed her ankle and pulled her down to the floor just out of reach of the gun. Sadirah struck her cheek with the gun, and as she was trying to claw her way back from the yawning blackness of unconsciousness, Sadirah tucked the gun into her belt and put her hands around Dorothy's throat. 

"Insane? I'm insane?" She shouted as she squeezed and shook her, banging the back of her head on the floor. "Do you have any idea what they did to me? Do you know what I saw them do to my mother?" Sadirah had completely snapped, and her madness made her stronger than a woman of her size would normally be. "Don't you think I know who you are? Your father commanded those bastards! Your grandfather sent them to L4!"

Just when Dorothy thought she wouldn't be able to stay conscious with the lack of oxygen, Sadirah released her, stood and kicked her so hard in the ribs that Dorothy was sure some had cracked when she felt the blinding pain and her sudden shortness of breath.

"Stop, Sadirah!" Although her vision was blurry, Dorothy could see that Quatre was holding his unconscious daughter in his arms. "Jamila needs a doctor. You need a doctor."

Sadirah was shaking her head as she paced, muttering incomprehensibly to herself, the gun still in her hand. Stopping suddenly, she turned and aimed the gun, first at Quatre, then at the girl he held. "I don't care what she needs! I hope she dies! I hate her! I hate you both!"

Dorothy managed to get to her feet and throw herself at Sadirah just as the gun went off. A bullet tore a chunk of wood from the wall by Quatre's head. Sadirah turned and struck her down again, then aimed and fired, and Dorothy felt the hot lead bury into her shoulder. Sadirah pulled the trigger again, but there was only a click. Realizing that the gun had jammed and Dorothy had precious seconds, despite the pain, and the fact that her tied wrists hampered her as much as her injuries, Dorothy dived to the other gun. She grabbed it, rolled and fired twice, both bullets missing Sadirah. 

Sadirah stopped trying to fix her gun and tossed it aside, then turned to face Dorothy as she lay on the floor, now taking careful aim at the deranged young woman. "Go ahead. Kill me! Do you think Yaqob will let you live? And if he does, do you think my peace loving, violence hating prick of a husband will forgive you? What about Jamila? Even if you manage to keep the truth from her, some day the bastard will know that her precious Miss Dorothy murdered her mother."

Dorothy's gaze met the dark eyes of the other woman. She knew that what Sadirah said was true, and yet if Dorothy didn't do something, Jamila, even if she did survive this night, was doomed to a lifetime of hell with this woman as her mother. Despite everything that Sadirah had done, Dorothy couldn't shoot and the gun dropped from her hand.

Sadirah threw back her head in scornful laughter, then sauntered to Yaqob who stood with the gun trained on Dorothy. "Give it to me, Yaqob. I want the pleasure of killing that whore myself."

Yaqob looked at the hand that she held out to him. "You...you wanted to kill Missy Jamila?"

Sadirah sighed impatiently. "Give me the gun, you fool!"

Yaqob looked from Jamila to Sadirah. "You...you aren't going to kill her, are you?"

"What do we need her for?" Sadirah frowned at her uncle. "Do I need to remind you what you have already done for me, Uncle Yaqob? Once we take care of these three, there will be no one left who knows our secrets."

Yaqob shook his head. "This is wrong, Sadirah."

"Give me the damn gun!" She reached out for it, but Yaqob suddenly swung and clubbed her on the side of the head. 

Sadirah fell to her hands and knees. When she raised her face to him, Dorothy could see that blood was oozing from the wound he had made. "Why did you do that, Uncle Yaqob?"

There were tears in his dark eyes. "It isn't right, Sadirah. What we did is wrong! Killing them isn't going to make it right."

"I thought you loved me," she said in a voice so pitifully small that Dorothy was reminded of Jamila. "You are the only one who has ever tried to help me."

"I'm going to help you now, Sadirah." Slipping the gun into his belt, he put his huge hands around her slender neck. Sadirah clawed at him with her long nails, but he squeezed until his face was red with the effort and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Dorothy heard a snap, and Sadirah's arms dropped limply to her sides. 

As Yaqob gently laid her body on the floor, Dorothy could hear the wail of sirens. Rising shakily to her feet, she wobbled across the room to Quatre who had risen and was holding the limp body of his daughter.

Almost afraid to learn the worst, Dorothy reached up with her still tied hands to feel for a pulse and was relieved to feel the steady rhythm at her neck. 

"I think the police are here," she said although it took an effort to talk.

Quatre reached out to touch her, but Dorothy moved away. Now that the danger had passed, she couldn't help but remember how he had spoken to her when he had arrived, that he believed she could threaten Jamila and extort money from him in order to finance a war. 

His hand dropped. "Dorothy..." Whatever he said was lost when a gunshot startled them both into turning back to see Yaqob's body fall beside Sadirah's. As Quatre quickly looked away, Dorothy saw that he had tears in his eyes. "I...I trusted them all."

Dorothy blinked back the tears in her own eyes. He had trusted them, but he couldn't trust her.

The door to the library crashed open, and instead of police, Preventer agents poured into the room. Heero Yuy was among the first, followed by Rashid and several of Quatre's men along with the security forces of the Earth Sphere United Nation. After making sure there was no threat in the room, Heero returned to them. 

He spoke to Dorothy. "You look like hell. I called for an ambulance when I heard the gunshot, so it should be arriving any moment."

"How did you find us?" asked Quatre incredulously, shaking off Rashid who tried to take Jamila from him.

"Intuition," Heero told him, then added. "And the tracking system on your car."

Dorothy laughed, but it hurt so badly that she had to stop. She was starting to feel dizzy from the loss of blood, and she must have swayed because Heero caught her and lifted her in his arms. 

From what seemed to be a long distance away, she heard Quatre talking to Heero as they left the library, but she couldn't make out what they were saying as her head swam and everything appeared fuzzy.

The last thing she heard was Heero saying, "I'll take care of everything."

__


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Quatre didn't have a right to expect Dorothy to see him after how badly he had misjudged her, but he was leaving for L4 the following morning, so he at least wanted the chance to tell her how ashamed he was. Having left Jamila with Rashid back at the hotel suite with one of his sisters whom had arrived almost a week ago, he drove to Dorothy's house alone. Jamila had wanted to go with him, but Quatre knew that they couldn't speak freely if she were there.

When he buzzed the security system, he waited anxiously, half-expecting her to refuse to see him. But after several moments, the lock clicked and Quatre was able to push the gate open. At the door he was greeted by a middle-aged woman who informed him that Miss Catalonia was in the garden, so he followed her through the house, thinking as he walked that he understood why Dorothy had chosen to live here instead of the Dermail Mansion. Here she wouldn't be haunted by the ghosts of a past she wanted to forget. 

As they neared the garden, he heard talking and realized that she was not alone. As Dorothy knelt in the dirt applying mulch to her rose garden, Heero Yuy stood nearby tearing petals from a white rose.

"Mr. Winner is here to see you," announced the maid, who then discreetly left them.

Heero glanced at him but didn't say a word. 

Dorothy stood and drew off her gloves. Her bruises were faded to a pale yellow that barely discolored her skin, and he knew that her wounds were healing. For becoming involved in his twisted life, she had received a concussion, two broken ribs and a gunshot wound to her shoulder. Quatre's wound had been superficial, but Jamila needed extra care for her head injury. If Dorothy hadn't acted, neither of them would be alive on this warm day.

When she looked at him, his heart ached to see that she seemed to feel nothing. "How is Jamila? Did you bring her?" Dorothy peered past him, then frowned in disappointment. 

"I wanted to speak to you alone," he said with a glance at Heero who did not budge an inch from his perch on a stool he had brought out from the kitchen.

"We have nothing to say that you can't say in front of Heero Yuy." She turned away, and picking up a pruning shears began to trim the rosebush.

Quatre knew that this was the best he would get. "I wanted to thank you for what you did for Jamila."

"You could have sent a card," remarked Heero.

While he knew it was none of his business and probably never had been, Quatre wondered yet again about the relationship between Dorothy and Heero. He found it difficult to believe that any man could know her and not love her as much as he did. Quatre couldn't even think straight as he watched her clip away at the rosebush. 

Dorothy didn't look at him. "I did what had to be done. I didn't really feel that I had a choice."

Quatre watched the clippings drift to the ground at her feet. If Heero Yuy weren't sitting two feet away watching as if he were attending a performance, he would say what was in his heart. Telling her what Barak had admitted made no difference in how things had turned out. Quatre had allowed himself to be manipulated to the point where he could suspect the worst of the woman he loved. 

"I have to leave tomorrow," he finally said when his throat wasn't so tight. "There is unrest on my colony."

"You mean civil war?" asked Heero when Dorothy did not respond. 

Quatre turned to speak to him. "Although you did an admirable job of covering up what happened, Hassan Barak's allies blame Mahmad Al-Jazar and suspect a terrorist attack." 

Following their departure from the mansion, a fire had broken out and consumed most of the mansion before firefighters were able to contain the blaze. The media reported that Quatre had been considering purchasing the mansion, and that he and his family were guests of Dorothy Catalonia when the fire broke out during the night. The few that were saved by emergency personnel were officially treated for smoke inhalation and minor burns. Heero had done a thorough job of covering up what had really happened at the Dermail Mansion.

"Are you going back to fight?" Dorothy asked, only glancing at him before resuming her work.

"I have to try to make things right. I feel responsible for giving Hassan Barak too much power." Within the last few days Quatre had discovered that Barak had raised an army of supporters, waiting only for the construction of mobile suits to take up arms against a government they considered oppressive. Although he had supported Al-Jazar, that man had also destroyed his confidence by beginning the systematic execution of political dissidents. Quatre's conclusion was that power was corruptive. He wasn't sure what he would do when he returned to L4, but return he must because the Winner family had traditionally taken a leadership role on L4.

"I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Heero slid off the stool and after a brief glance at Dorothy, he went into the house, leaving them alone.

Quatre looked at Dorothy. She was staring at the door to the kitchen, and then she turned to him. "I don't know why he did that when I had asked him to stay."

"I can't leave without telling you how sorry I am." 

She spun away so that her back was to him. The pruning sheers dropped to the ground, and she put her hands to her face. Her shoulders shook and he could see that she was trembling.

Quatre put his hands on her shoulders for a moment, then slid his arms around her and held her close against him. As he put his face in her hair, he breathed in the scent of roses and earth and Dorothy. She tried to twist away from him, but he held her tight, wishing he would never have to let her go. When she finally relaxed in his embrace, he closed his eyes and remembered the moment in Barbados when she told him that she loved him. At first he had been startled by the depth of her feelings, almost frightened by the responsibility of having caused them until he realized that he felt the same for her. He wasn't sure how he would be able to carry on without Dorothy in his life, but he did know that he wasn't going to try to replace her. If he had to, he would wait forever for her to forgive him, and if she never did, he would accept it as nothing more than he deserved.

"I ... I thought I could recapture the dream," he heard her say. 

He turned her around in his arms, then put his hand under her chin to raise her face to his. Her eyes were watery and strangely blurry until he realized that he had tears in his own eyes. "It has never been a dream."

"It has for me," she whispered. "And now it is over."

Quatre released her and dropped his arms to his sides. "I can't change what happened, Dorothy. I can't take back the things that I've said and done. Every day I will say a prayer that you can find forgiveness for me in your heart."

"I hope you can find comfort in your prayers." She turned stiffly away from him. "I think you should go."

As if on cue, Heero Yuy exited the kitchen to return to the garden. Quatre had little doubt that he listened to their entire conversation. "If you are headed back to the hotel, I'd appreciate a lift to the airport."

Frustrated by his interruption, Quatre wanted to refuse, especially since the airport was out of his way, but as Dorothy retrieved her shears from the ground and started to work on her roses again, he knew that their conversation was over. 

He watched as leaves dropped around her feet as well as what appeared to be perfectly good roses. "I guess this is goodbye," he said. 

"I guess it is," she said tersely.

Although Heero was watching with open interest, Quatre didn't like leaving as things stood between them now. "Dorothy..."

She spun to look at him, and there was anger in her blue eyes. "You came to say what you wanted, and the only thing you asked in return is my forgiveness. Well you can't have it! I know that Hassan Barak framed me because he wanted you to stay with his daughter. I know every horrible piece of evidence he presented to you. Do you know that Randolph Morrison gave me just as much reason to mistrust you? They had everything set up so that I would believe you were using me to further your own political ambitions, and I almost believed them."

"I wouldn't do such a thing," denied Quatre.

"I had no reason not to believe him," she said, clenching her fists at her side. "You didn't exactly show me your best side in Barbados. Everything he told me was plausible. And yet I knew here," She laid a hand on her chest. "That you wouldn't betray me." Her hand dropped to her side, and when her eyes met his, he could see sadness and confusion mingling with her anger. "I foolishly thought that you would feel the same, that you would never believe me capable of such treachery."

Quatre knew that he had completely destroyed her trust, and with a heavy heart he realized he could do nothing to regain it. 

Tears gathered in her eyes. "You'll never know how deeply I am hurt that you could think for a moment that I would endanger your daughter. For that alone, I hate you! Now get out of my sight!"

Standing, Heero cocked his head toward the door. "Let's go." 

Quatre met her gaze one last time, and he wasn't sure what he saw before she spun away and started hacking away at what remained of the rosebush she had been working on.

When they were in the car on the highway leading to the airport, Heero didn't say anything for several minutes, and Quatre was glad because he needed the time to gather his thoughts. In her place, he would feel the same. He had allowed their enemies to manipulate him, and for that he would pay a high price.

"I hear there's a fine line between love and hate," Heero remarked.

Quatre kept his eyes on the road. He wasn't in the mood to listen to Heero Yuy's sage advice. "What do you know?"

"That she's been nursing a broken heart for almost five years. Maybe something good can come of the ashes that you made of your relationship with her. You should have trusted her. I would have, given the circumstances. Give her some time."

"I have no choice. I have to return to L4."

"Then don't get yourself killed or she'll end up regretting her last words to you." 

He fell silent then, probably to let Quatre think about what he had said. At least Heero had given him a ray of hope. Quatre didn't want to consider a future that didn't include Dorothy Catalonia.

"Where are you headed?" he asked Heero to distract himself. He didn't really care where the Preventers were sending him.

"Switzerland."

Quatre turned to look at him. "What will you be doing there?"

"Tying up some loose ends. One of your men was killed there, and forensics have determined that Yaqob bin Haroon killed him."

"I suspected that." 

"We don't know why. I hope to find out." Heero glanced at him. "Were you acquainted with Dr. Niklaus Richter?"

The name was vaguely familiar, but Quatre couldn't place it. "I don't recall meeting a man by that name." He took the exit to the airport. "Should I know him?"

"His name is on your daughter's birth certificate. I thought you might have investigated Sadirah Barak's claims a little more thoroughly than you apparently have."

Quatre pulled to a stop before the terminal doors, then turned to look at Heero. "Are you trying to imply something?"

"Richter is dead, killed by a bullet fired by the same gun that killed Salim and ended Yaqob Haroon's life."

"Yaqob killed him? Why?"

"I intend to find out. What could he possibly be hiding about Sadirah Barak? Are you sure that Jamila is yours?"

"I couldn't be more certain. I had her tested so thoroughly after she was born that I'm surprised she was left with enough blood to survive." Quatre had felt ashamed after learning the conclusive results of all the genetic testing because he had not believed Sadirah's claim that he was Jamila's father. Now his doubts surfaced again, but there wasn't anything he would do if he found out Hassan Barak had managed to bribe every lab in the Earth Sphere United Nation to give the results he desired. Jamila had found a permanent place in Quatre's heart that had nothing to do with blood. 

"Yaqob had a reason to kill the man. When I find out what it was, I'll let you know." Heero opened the door and stepped out, but he leaned back inside. "How is your little girl taking all this?"

Quatre sighed. "She's devastated. She doesn't even remember her mother hitting her, and I feel guilty with the lies we have told her. She hasn't said more than a few words since I brought her home from the hospital."

"Before you leave, you should let her visit Dorothy. I think it might do them both some good." Heero closed the door and stepped away from the curb, then turned and went into the airport terminal.

On the way back to the hotel, Quatre weighed the pros and cons of sending Jamila to Dorothy for a final visit before they left Earth. On the one hand, Jamila seemed to have bonded with Dorothy in a way that she never had with Sadirah. That was no longer surprising to him since Dorothy had shown her nothing but maternal kindness while Sadirah had beaten and scorned her probably all of her young life. On the other hand, Quatre was afraid that a visit to Dorothy might make memories of the night her mother died surface and Jamila would find it too difficult to handle. 

By the time he reached the suite, he still wasn't sure what he would do. His sister, Hadya, who had arrived a week ago from L3 to care for Jamila, rose from the sofa and crossed the room to hug him. While he was glad to have her support, Quatre didn't know Hadya any better than any of his many other sisters. She lived the closest to Earth and had not balked at coming to help him through this trying time. He noticed that Jamila was lying on the sofa staring straight ahead at nothing in particular as she hugged a pillow. 

"Your visit did not go well?" asked Hadya.

He realized he must have been wearing his feelings on his sleeve. "No. I don't think Miss Dorothy will be forgiving me any time soon, if ever."

As Hadya gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, he saw that Jamila sat up and turned to look at him. 

"Papa, did you talk to Miss Dorothy? Why did you not take me with you?" There were tears in her blue eyes. "I wanted to talk to Miss Dorothy, too."

"You may see her tomorrow before we leave," he told her, his mind now made up. He crossed the room to sit on the sofa, pulling Jamila on his lap. "Rashid will take you."

Jamila laid her head on his chest where he felt an ache for his motherless daughter. In his mind he had imagined Dorothy filling the role Sadirah had played so poorly, but he had managed to screw that up just as much as he had his marriage. He felt sick to his stomach as he remembered the hatred in Sadirah's eyes as she aimed the gun at both him and Jamila. Had it not been for Dorothy, they would both be dead now. Even if Dorothy could forgive him for his mistrust, Quatre didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself for believing Dorothy capable of the things the Hassan Barak and his daughter had themselves done.

"Why do I have to go with Hadya?" asked Jamila. "Why can't I go home with you?"

Quatre reached up to stroke her blond hair, sifting his fingers through the platinum strands and thinking of the times that he had done the same thing to Dorothy's hair. Sighing, he answered his daughter. "You cannot go home, Jamila, because it is not safe. There is war on our colony."

"What is war?" she asked him.

He had hoped never to have to explain to his children what war was, but the hopes of his youth were in vain. He realized now that abolishing all mobile suits could not change the hearts of men and women, that greed and lust for power would always direct the actions of many to the point of causing the deaths of innocent men, women and children. 

After he had explained in terms that he thought Jamila could understand, she said, "Why do you have to go? Are you going to get hurt? Are you going to go away forever like Grandpapa and Mama and Uncle Yaqob?"

Quatre held her close in his arms, and she buried her face in his neck where he could feel her hot tears. "It will be over soon, Jamila, and I will send for you."

As she wept, Quatre prayed that he was right.

After throwing a handful of birdseed some distance away from the bench where Dorothy settled with the morning paper and for a few minutes she watched the flock of pigeons and doves, fat already from her daily feeding. She then turned her attention to the children crawling over the play equipment while their mothers chatted with each other. Dorothy once thought she would be one of those mothers, perhaps like the woman who balanced a toddler on her hip, chatting with another woman while her daughter was climbing the ladder of the slide. Dorothy had planned to be part of this cozy neighborhood clique.

A pigeon landed on the back of the bench beside her.

Instead she was the bird lady.

Frowning, she reached into her back of seeds and tossed it several feet away. The pigeon was so fat she wondered how it could take flight, but it managed to do so and land somewhat ungracefully amongst the flock of birds that had been attracted to the new feeding ground. Dorothy caught the disapproving glances from the other women before they turned purposefully away from her. She raised her fingers, took aim and shot them all.

"That wasn't very nice, Miss Dorothy."

Blushing, Dorothy turned to see Rashid standing a few feet away. Jamila was holding his hand, but she released it and ran to her. Dorothy barely had a chance to stand before Jamila was hugging her. For several moments, nobody said anything, and then Rashid stepped forward.

"We will be leaving Earth in a few hours. Missy Jamila wished to say goodbye to you."

Leaving? Dorothy had to swallow her tears. If she started crying, neither of them would stop. "Why don't we go back to my house? Mrs. Milton was baking some tarts when I left, so maybe they are finished by now."

"I like tarts," commented Jamila as she stepped back. Dorothy thought she looked adorable in her matching skirt and jacket. She looked ready to travel.

Dorothy held out her hand and Jamila took it with no hesitation. "I was just feeding the birds."

"I knew you would be here," said Jamila. "When we saw you weren't home, I said to Rashid to bring me here."

Dorothy didn't really have anything else to do now that she was unemployed although Jamila didn't know that. "I'm glad you found me." She noticed that the women were watching her curiously and she was tempted to give them an obscene gesture, but that wouldn't be proper when she was with Jamila. Perhaps she would do it another time.

Unlike the last time they made the short trek to Dorothy's house, Jamila was quiet, and Dorothy could tell that Rashid was uncomfortable with his escort duty. When they reached the house, Rashid opted to stay outside to be on guard although Dorothy didn't seriously believe they had a threat now. He informed her that while Barak was dead, his allies could still use Jamila to extort money from Quatre. She thought about making a quip about Jamila's safety with her, but Quatre's mistrust hurt her too deeply. 

Mrs. Milton fussed over her tarts, didn't want to give them up for anything but lunch for which she had prepared them, but Jamila's big, sad eyes convinced her to serve them with some hot chocolate. She then excused herself, explaining that she had some shopping to get done. Although Jamila had seemed delighted to have the tart, once she was alone with Dorothy, she picked at the crust, then moved around the cherries inside.

"Are you feeling better?" asked Dorothy. She didn't have much of an appetite for her tart either. Seeing the sadness of the little girl made her gut wrench and her heart twist painfully. 

Jamila nodded. "We are leaving today."

"I know." Dorothy reached out to put her hand on Jamila's. "I will miss you."

Jamila's chin dropped to her chest. 

Dorothy bit her own lip to keep it from quivering. Why was it so difficult to say goodbye to this little girl? She had met her only a few weeks ago, and yet Jamila had filled the place in her heart that she had made for her own child. Angelina Maria.

"I have to stay with Aunt Hadya," Jamila said, her voice small and pained. "Papa is going to fight a war."

Jamila was afraid that she was going to lose her father. Dorothy remembered how she felt when her own father was killed. She had been very upset because she never had a chance to make him proud of her. And her father had not been the loving, gentle father that Quatre was to his daughter. Dorothy knew that Quatre felt he had no choice, but she despaired that he chose to fight again. 

"Your papa will be all right," she said. 

Jamila didn't respond.

Dorothy stood. "Do you want to see my flowers again?"

Jamila slid off the chair and took Dorothy's hand. Once they were in the flower garden, she released her and allowed Jamila to move from one bloom to another, gently touching them and smelling them. Although Jamila did frown when she was standing before the bush that Dorothy had destroyed in her anger the previous afternoon. She couldn't very well go after Quatre Winner with the pruning shears, so she had to sacrifice one of her finest bushes. 

"What happened?" asked Jamila.

"I was angry," confessed Dorothy.

Jamila turned to look at her. "I'm sorry, Miss Dorothy."

Dorothy smiled. "It's not your fault, Jamila."

Two fat tears quickly formed and rolled down her cheeks. "My mama wanted to kill you."

Dorothy caught her breath as she realized Jamila was apologizing for her mother's actions. She quickly went to scoop Jamila into her arms and she hugged her tightly. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Jamila."

Jamila sobbed pitifully as she held Dorothy tightly, but Dorothy held her close to give her comfort until she was spent. When she was finished crying, Dorothy took her into the kitchen to wash away her tears, remembering as she did that they had done this before. Would Jamila ever know anything but heartache? If Quatre were killed on L4, Jamila would be destroyed. When Jamila had recovered, they returned to the tarts and rather chilled chocolate. This time Jamila took a few bites, but she was still troubled.

A knock at the door proceeded Rashid's entrance. "It is time to go, Missy Jamila."

Dorothy blinked back her tears as she walked them to the door. She hugged Jamila one last time wishing that she didn't have to let her go. How she managed to keep from crying, she didn't know. Rashid opened the door for her, and another of Quatre's men took Jamila to the car. Rashid stayed behind to speak to her.

"Master Quatre wanted you to have this." He handed Dorothy an envelope. 

Dorothy was afraid it was some heart-wrenching letter that would make her foolishly throw her clothing in a bag and follow him to the end of the galaxy. But opening it, she saw that it was a legal document drawn up by lawyers and properly signed giving her guardianship of Jamila should anything happen to Quatre. She watched Jamila get into the limousine through her own tears, then looked at Rashid.

"Take care of them, Rashid."

He reached out to squeeze her hand. "I hope you can forgive him, Miss Dorothy. I know that he loves you." He released her then left to join the others in the limousine. 

Dorothy didn't close the door until she couldn't see the limousine anymore. Then she put her back to the door, and for a few minutes she fought the tears that threatened to undo her completely. But if she hadn't learned anything else, she had by now that crying over what had become of her life did not help a bit. She was going to pick up the pieces and start again. 

She needed a job to keep herself busy.

Dorothy knew she wouldn't have to look long, and although she had tried to deny it, her talents were best put to use one place.

Picking up the phone, she dialed the number she already knew, and when the secretary answered, she said, "I'd like to speak to Mr. Morley. Tell him it is Dorothy Catalonia."


	16. Chapter 16

****

Chapter 16

She had just sat down at her desk with a cup of coffee when Dorothy noticed the door to Bill Morley's office open and Heero Yuy step out, Morley still talking to him at the open door. Both men turned in her direction, and Morley stopped speaking in mid-sentence as if he were afraid she could hear him, then murmured something before disappearing quickly into his office again. Dorothy almost found the exchange amusing, but something in the look Morley had given her made her feel uneasy.

Heero made his way to her desk, one of many in an office pool where field agents did their work when not on assignment. While many agents were out now, Dorothy hadn't done much more than serve as security for Relena at a couple of social functions since she had taken the job three months ago. Dorothy suspected that Relena had requested her specifically for reasons other than protection because Dorothy had to suffer Relena's attempts to set her up with men on each occasion. Dorothy wasn't interested in having a man in her life now. She had been burned too many times already, so she wasn't about to get near the fire again any time soon. 

"Welcome back," she said when he came to her desk. "Where have you been all this time?" Dorothy hadn't heard anything about Heero Yuy's assignment, and even Relena hadn't known where he was.

Heero sat on the edge of her desk and folded his arms over his chest as he looked at her. "I've been tying up some loose ends."

"Sounds interesting." Dorothy noticed he was holding a rather thick file. "You've been gone quite a while."

"It was a complicated case. And I took the opportunity to relax when I finished my investigation." Heero smiled grimly. "I did a little skiing."

"Oh?" Dorothy tried not to sound interested. She hoped that he hadn't been skiing in Switzerland.

"I broke my arm."

She almost guffawed with laughter, but Heero wasn't smiling. "Maybe you should have had a few lessons before taking to the harder runs." Dorothy still found the image of Heero Yuy laid up with a broken bone humorous and couldn't keep from smiling.

"Go ahead and laugh. I've already heard it from Relena." Heero dropped the folder on her desk. "I guess this is yours."

Dorothy saw that her name was printed on the folder tab. She didn't want to touch it, but she reached out for it.

Heero put his hand over it before she opened it. "You're not going to like what I found out."

Dorothy stared at his hand, then looked at his face. "What are you going to do about it?" She had little doubt that Heero had found out everything that she had tried to bury in her past. As tenacious as a pitbull, he wouldn't have let go until he learned everything there was to know. "Are you going to tell him?"

"The question is, are _you_ going to tell him?"

Realizing that a few of the other agents were watching them curiously, eavesdropping openly, Dorothy said, "This isn't the time or place to discuss this."

"Let's have lunch."

"It's nine o'clock in the morning," she reminded him.

"I've just gotten back from Switzerland, so as far as I'm concerned, it's lunch time." Heero stood. "Meet me in the lobby."

Dorothy turned away to dig her purse from the desk drawer, and when she turned back, she saw that the file was gone from her desk. Heero must have taken it before he left, and she was somewhat relieved because she was afraid it would fall into the wrong hands. Dorothy had a difficult time trusting her fellow agents, probably because they viewed her as an interloper who had been given special privileges. After being stabbed in the back by Tracy James, Dorothy wasn't going to trust anybody in the office.

Heero was standing in the lobby reading a newspaper, and when he saw her step out of the elevator, he tucked the paper under his arm, then cocked his head to the door. With a frown, Dorothy followed him out and raised a brow when she saw the sportscar parked in front of the building, a parking ticket under the wiper.

"You must be paid pretty damn well," she remarked.

He plucked the ticket off the windshield, tore it in half and tossed it to the wind before opening the door for her. "One of the perks of my job."

She settled in the soft leather seat of the car. "I don't believe that."

He joined her and started the car. "It's Winner's car. I'm taking care of it for him until he returns to Earth."

"I suppose he has wracked up a mountain of parking fines," she remarked wryly.

"I doubt he'll worry about them." Heero tossed her the paper. 

Dorothy hadn't seen the paper this morning, nor had she watched the news reports because she had overslept and didn't have time for her usual routine. But the last few months she had kept track of events on L4 as best she could. The civil war had been short and bloody. Hassan Barak's faction had taken up arms against the government and even before Quatre had returned to his home colony, Mahmad Al-Jazar had been assassinated. Dorothy couldn't help but fear for Quatre's safety, for Jamila's sake, of course. Quatre had quickly gathered allies, and for the last six weeks had been fighting the new regime's forces. According to the most recent reports, the capital city was under siege by opponents of the new government. 

Opening the paper now, she breathed a sigh of relief to see that the headlines proclaimed peace on L4. Scanning the story, she read that an interim government under the leadership of Quatre Winner had been put into place following the rout of the Barak faction from power and negotiations were underway with nearby colonies for recognition of the government. L2 had denounced the regime that had deposed Al-Jazar, so it had already recognized the new government, but L3 was holding out, having given both military and financial support to the usurpers. The new threat to the Earth Sphere United Nation was a war between L3 and L4.

"It's a delicate situation," commented Dorothy aloud.

"I would agree, but I know we're not talking about the same thing." Heero pulled into the parking lot of a small cafe. "They serve greasy burgers and soggy fries here."

"With that recommendation, I'm eager for lunch." Dorothy reached for the door, but Heero locked it from his side. Sighing, she turned to look at him. 

"You are going to have to tell him." Heero met her eyes. "You can't avoid it."

"And if I don't?" she asked with a raised brow. "Do you expect me to believe that you would contact him about something so unimportant when he has bigger problems to deal with?"

"Don't sell yourself short, Dorothy. He screwed up. But you can't ignore the fact that Hassan Barak was his father's friend, had become a father figure to him, and Sadirah was his wife for four years as well as the mother of his daughter. Maybe the guy is a naive buffoon in some ways, but he logically couldn't trust you, Dorothy, when your only recommendation to him was a hot time between the sheets."

Dorothy tried the door, but it remained locked. "I don't want to discuss this! You don't understand how it was between us!"

Heero grabbed her arm and forced her around to face him. "I don't know what I would do in his shoes. Given the fact that your relationship with him had soured some years ago, for a moment, even I thought you were capable of using his daughter as a pawn. Knowing the full story now, I'm less surprised by his lack of confidence in you."

"What are you talking about?" Dorothy didn't want to hear anyone defend Quatre Winner. Even with the passing of time, her heart still ached from the knowledge that Quatre didn't love her enough to trust her.

"From his standpoint, you bailed on him in Barbados when he was on the verge of making you a permanent part of his life. You refused his attempts to contact you. He will feel thoroughly vindicated when he finds out that you did not inform him of your condition. It looks bad, Dorothy."

"Bad?" She clenched her fists. "I did what I thought was right!"

Heero shrugged. "Some men take their responsibilities seriously. I think you and I know that Quatre Winner is that kind of man."

"Barak told me he was marrying his daughter, that it had been planned for many years and that Quatre was well aware of it! I didn't want to disrupt his life!" 

"Disrupting his life would have been the best thing to happen for either of you." Heero unlocked the door. "Now let's eat."

Dorothy wanted to get a cab back to the office, but she decided to keep him company while he wolfed down the most repulsive meal she had ever seen. It appeared to be some type of hash of eggs and greasy potatoes. Dorothy couldn't believe that he was enjoying the meal prepared by a cook wearing a filthy T-shirt and smoking a cigar while he worked in the kitchen and a waitress that was so hung over that she had the shakes and spilled the coffee she splashed into Dorothy's cup. Heero called them by first names, and they acknowledged him likewise, but they viewed her curiously as she sipped the coffee only after making certain that the cup was clean. She wondered if he took Relena Darlian to this place.

Heero didn't talk about his investigation, but then she already knew what he had discovered. Morley probably knew about her by now as well, so she understood why he had given her such a strange look outside his office. If the Dermail Mansion hadn't been bulldozed flat several weeks ago, she would probably quit her job to spend the rest of her life wandering from one gloomy dark room to another to hide from the world. At least that was no longer an option. She was going to have to face up to the worst mistake she had made in her life.

When they left the cafe, Heero drove around to the Dermail Estate where landscaping was underway. Dorothy never wanted to return there, so she had donated it to the Earth Sphere United Nation to be used as a public park for everyone to enjoy. The property really was quite lovely now that the eyesore mansion was gone. Dorothy hadn't been upset one bit by Heero's solution to covering up the scandal surrounding the most powerful people of L4. She hoped that Jamila never learned the truth about what happened to the people she loved.

"You've done a good thing, Dorothy," commented Heero as the estate disappeared in the rearview mirror.

She would never be able to walk in the park without remembering the look in Quatre's eyes that night in the mansion. "I'm never going back there."

"Then you're taking a step in the right direction."

Arriving back at Preventer headquarters, Heero parked the car in front of the building again. She didn't bother reminding him that it wasn't a legal parking space. Returning to her desk, she found a note from Bill Morley asking her to step into his office on her return, and several desks away she saw that Heero was looking curiously at a similar note. She wasn't surprised that he joined her on the way to the chief's office.

"Do you know what it is about?" she asked, fearing that Morley was going to release her from duties until he figured out what he would do with her since she was a scandal waiting to happen. Because of what had happened between her and Quatre, she was probably going to lose another job.

Heero shrugged. She doubted he cared where he was sent or what he was asked to do.

Morley's secretary buzzed him and sent them in immediately. The man had a hard time looking at Dorothy, so he concentrated on Heero instead. "I have a job for both of you."

"We're working as a team again?" she asked, mildly interested. If Heero were involved, it would be more than security detail.

"Somewhat." He scratched his head, rubbed his cheek, and Dorothy could see that he was embarrassed. She started to get a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Relena Darlian has accepted the responsibility of negotiating peace between L3 and L4."

"Let me guess," started Dorothy. "I'm going to be escorting her."

"Actually, I have another mission for you." Morley smiled apologetically at Heero. "She specifically asked for you."

Heero swore under his breath. Before he could say what was on his mind, Dorothy asked, "And what will I be doing?"

"Miss Darlian suggested you for another duty." Morley shifted uncomfortably again. Dorothy suspected it had something to do with Quatre Winner. "As you must be aware, the new government sent the L3 ambassador packing for his involvement in supplying aid to the Barak faction in overthrowing Mahmad Al-Jazar and to keep Quatre Winner from coming to power. Winner's government has agreed to allow Colony L3 to send a new ambassador to begin rebuilding peaceful relations between them."

"I am providing security for the Ambassador from L3?" she asked, somewhat mollified by the assignment. At least she wasn't going to be dodging the men Relena threw her way.

"This is a very delicate situation, Miss Catalonia. The government on L3 doesn't want to show any kind of fear or weakness to a potential enemy, and yet they do fear for the safety of their new ambassador."

"So I am going undercover?" Dorothy didn't relish the idea of going to L4, but she was going to have to face Quatre some time before Heero had a chance to reveal her secrets. 

"Yes. Miss Darlian informed me that you know the new ambassador personally, so this assignment should not be too difficult for you."

"Who is the new ambassador?" asked Dorothy although she suspected the answer before he gave it.

"James Sheffield."

"Sheffield!" exclaimed Heero with uncharacteristic annoyance. He shook his head. "You will have to get another agent. There is a potential problem."

"I know there is a history between you and Sheffield," started Morley before Heero cut him off.

"I will guard James Sheffield, and she can take Relena Darlian."

"Sheffield has already agreed," said Morley. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Yuy, but you're going to have to stick to the plan."

"I don't have a problem with it," Dorothy spoke up. Her relationship with James Sheffield had been somewhat one track, but it hadn't ended badly. His duties kept him from Earth often enough that they had mutually decided not to see each other. She had already started dating Randolph Morrison the last time they had run into each other at a dinner party, and James had been polite to a fault to her escort. She considered their relationship amicable. 

"Good. You will be leaving Earth tomorrow and heading directly to L3. After a short stay while Miss Darlian negotiates with the leaders on L3, you will head to L4 with James Sheffield representing his colony. Most of the time he will be provided protection by uniformed Preventer agents, but you will be watching him when that is not feasible." He handed folders to both Heero and Dorothy. "Before leaving, there will be a short briefing. In order to avoid hostilities in space between the colonies, it is imperative that both Relena Darlian and James Sheffield remain safe."

Morley nodded a dismissal, so Dorothy left his office although Heero stayed behind, probably to argue. In his mind, he had a valid case against sending her to L4 with James Sheffield because of her relationship with both the ambassador of L3 and the new leader of L4, Quatre Winner. Relena was a negotiator. She probably had a good reason for recommending her.

"I thought he might be just the man for you!" Relena told her after they sat down for lunch later that afternoon. Relena had called and invited her to a restaurant a few blocks from the Preventer building, and Dorothy asked her outright why she suggested her for the assignment.

Dorothy stared at her incredulously. "This is a date?"

Relena smiled smugly. "Well, you refused all my other efforts, so I had to play dirty." She shrugged as she picked up her menu. "I think I'll have the shrimp salad."

Dorothy frowned at her. "Let me get this straight. You recommended me to go undercover to protect James Sheffield because you were setting us up as a couple?"

"It's not as if you aren't acquainted with him." Relena winked at her. "How long did you two date?"

"Date? I was a convenient escort for him while he was on Earth." She was convenient for him in other ways too that she wasn't about to bring up at lunch in an elegant restaurant. 

"Three years," Relena answered her own question. "I was hoping he would ask you to marry him."

"Marry!" That thought of marrying James Sheffield made her toes curl. He was handsome, wealthy, and from an old family that had settled on L3 generations ago. He was well connected and influential on his colony. But James liked playing the field, and while that hadn't bothered her before, marriage to a man with those morals would be miserable. Dorothy wanted some stability in her life, and if that didn't include a man, then she was better off alone.

"The idea isn't that absurd! I've heard that he has settled down, and now that he has become ambassador, he'll need a suitable wife." Relena seemed to be pleased with her plan.

Dorothy hated to burst her bubble. "Do I need to remind you of all the reasons why I would not be a suitable wife for the ambassador to L4?"

"Are you talking about OZ?" Relena waved her hand dismissively. "I think you've redeemed yourself."

"Oh? Do you think my involvement with the White Fang redeemed me?"

Relena made a sound of disgust and set down the menu to look across the table at her. "Stop beating yourself with your past mistakes. It is how you live your life in the present that matters most." She signaled the waitress and ordered them both a shrimp salad, then reached for her glass of wine. "Besides, when I suggested it to James Sheffield, he was more than happy to accept you."

Dorothy grimaced. "Why not? He probably thinks he is getting a free ride to L4 and back."

Relena smiled and raised her glass of wine to her. "That will be up to you."

Dorothy couldn't help but wonder how Quatre would feel when she arrived with James Sheffield. Part of her regretted how seeing her another man might affect him, given their emotional parting, yet she couldn't help thinking that it served him right. What was she to him? He had never told her that he loved her although she had taken that for granted. Perhaps her feelings for him were so deep that she had deluded herself into believing he felt the same. What had Heero said? The only thing that commended her to Quatre Winner was a hot time between the sheets. Dorothy didn't want to believe that, but she had no proof to the contrary. She wasn't any more important to him than she was to a man like James Sheffield.

The trip to L3 was long and tedious. At least Heero and Relena had each other for company while all Dorothy had was her thoughts. She spent the forty-eight hour flight to the colony thinking about Quatre and how she would tell him about the baby that never had a chance to live. Dorothy had never told anyone about what happened in Switzerland because the memory was painful to her. She had even managed to lock it away until Jamila had come into her life. Telling Quatre was going to be the hardest thing she would ever have to do. But she had no choice now that others had discovered her secret. He at least had the right to learn about it from her.

She also couldn't help but consider what Heero had said about Quatre wanting to take the responsibility for her child. Dorothy knew it was true. But she hadn't told him because she couldn't trust the man she knew in Barbados to be a reliable father to her daughter. He had been self-destructive, unpredictable and as far as she knew, unscrupulous in seducing her when he knew he was going to marry another woman. That kind of man wouldn't have been a good father. 

When they finally arrived at the docking port on L3, Dorothy was relieved to get off the shuttle. She had slept in her seat, which didn't recline enough for a comfortable rest, and although she had a chance to wash and change, she was eager to get to a hotel to relax in a bath. After that, she planned to sleep until the time she would have to get on the shuttle again for another long flight to L4.

They were greeted by a delegation, which included security guards in Preventer uniforms accompanying the ambassador from Earth as well as James Sheffield. The latter shook hands with both Relena and Heero, then as he was shaking Dorothy's hand, he pulled her close and brushed his lips against her cheek before murmuring in her ear.

"I've been looking forward to seeing you again."

She looked into his hazel eyes. "I hope you haven't been getting ideas about my assignment."

When he smiled there were dimples in his cheeks. "Fantasies, my dear Dorothy. Delightful fantasies."

As he stepped away, Dorothy caught an amused look from Relena along with Heero's raised brow. 

Her plans to relax were dashed by the ambassador who informed them that a reception was planned for the evening. They would be staying at the embassy, and Relena already had a full slate of meetings to attend beginning within the hour. Although she was clearly exhausted by the trip, she graciously told both men that she needed only enough time to freshen up from her trip. Dorothy still planned to get some rest before the reception where she had little doubt she would nod off to sleep during a boring speech.

As they walked through the concourse toward the lobby of the shuttle port, James fell into step beside Dorothy, slipping an arm around her waist. She felt uncomfortable with the familiarity, but he said as he leaned too close, "I believe you have a role to play, my dear Dorothy."

Walking with the handsome ambassador wasn't really that painful despite the niggling feeling that she was doing something wrong. A few inches taller than her, he was broad shouldered and well-proportioned due to regular visits to the exercise room and early morning jogs. His dark auburn hair used to be a bit too long, but it was now neatly trimmed and brushed back. His tailored dark suit and new look made him look completely respectable and dangerously attractive.

Yet she wasn't interested in picking up where they left off and was about to tell him so when she was interrupted.

"Miss Dorothy! Miss Dorothy!"

She turned in the direction of the voice and saw Jamila Winner running towards her, an exasperated Rashid behind her as well as several other men who had already drawn weapons.

The Preventer agents drew their own guns and Dorothy feared a gunfight. Stepping away from James, she leaned down to scoop the little girl up in her arms. As Jamila hugged her, her little arms tight around her neck, Dorothy heard Heero order the Preventer guards to put away their weapons. Rashid did the same with his men.

When Jamila had her fill of the hug, she leaned back to look at Dorothy's face. "I'm going home today! Are you going with me?"

Dorothy wished she could say that she was because she knew that Jamila would be disappointed with her answer. "Not today, Jamila, but I may see you in a few days."

As she suspected, Jamila stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, but it lasted only an instant. "I cannot wait to see you there. I have many things to show you."

Rashid cleared his throat. "We have to leave, Missy Jamila."

Dorothy set the girl on the ground. "I am glad I had a chance to see you before you left, Jamila."

Jamila slipped her hand in Rashid's. "I'll tell Papa that I saw you."

Dorothy felt James close behind her and noticed Rashid's curious glance before he nodded to her and he lead Jamila back to the group escorting her. A young woman stepped out to take her hand, but she looked in Dorothy's direction and her scathing glare encompassed both her and James Sheffield. Quatre was going to hear about her from several sources.

"You seem to have a rapport with Quatre Winner's daughter," commented James as he watched them move away. 

"She hasn't had any trouble here, has she?" asked Dorothy. With relations between L3 and L4 as strained as they were, she was surprised that Jamila had remained on the colony with her aunt.

"We aren't barbarians," said James with a smile. "Besides, the Winner residence on L3 is well protected. It would have taken a full-scale assault to get anywhere near her."

Astonished, she looked at him. 

He shrugged. "We had to consider all of our options. Unfortunately, my government chose to back the wrong army. Now we're going to have a hell of a time re-establishing friendly relations with L4. I won't deny that holding Jamila Winner as a hostage had been suggested, but it was quickly discarded as unfeasible both in terms of effort and the bad publicity."

Dorothy knew that Quatre's men would have given their lives to keep her from falling into enemy hands, and Jamila could have been hurt as well. She was glad that Jamila was leaving L3 before they could change their mind and use her as leverage in the upcoming negotiations.

While Relena and Heero left the port in a limousine with the ambassador from Earth, Dorothy was left with James Sheffield. At first an uneasy silence stretched between them as the driver pulled onto the street to follow the other vehicle, but after a few moments, James spoke.

"I was sorry to hear about the accident at your mansion."

"It was terrible," she said, beginning a speech she had rehearsed many times to use when anyone brought up the incident. 

"I'm not going to say that I'm sorry about Morrison. I don't know what you saw in him." He reached out to take her hand, and Dorothy let him. "He wasn't good enough for you." He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm.

A shiver ran down her spine and she drew her hand away from him. "I was sent to protect you, not entertain you," she informed him.

"So it's going to be all business, Dorothy?" He was smiling.

His smile could melt an iceberg. She thought it prudent to change the subject. "Who was that woman escorting Jamila Winner? I seem to have made a very bad impression on her." Dorothy could imagine what Jamila's nanny would be telling Quatre. 

"Hadya Winner." The tone of James' voice told her that he was well acquainted with the young woman and not all that pleased to be.

"Quatre Winner's sister?" Dorothy felt inexplicable relief. Well, not inexplicable in that she had been bothered to think Quatre was employing the beautiful young woman to watch his daughter.

"One in the same. She is chairman of the board of L3 branch of the Winner Corporation as well as a primary school teacher. I met her at some charity event a few months ago. Just when she was getting interesting, she dropped out of circulation." He sighed melodramatically then looked at her. "You will more than make up for her loss."

Dorothy smiled. "I'm surprised at you, James. You actually let one get away?"

"I hardly had a choice in the matter. High walls and barbed wire as well as movement activated laser security can be a deterrent to romance." He frowned. "She was being rather difficult. I don't like difficult women."

"You're lucky I'm so easy then," she commented wryly. 

"Something tells me that you aren't going to be so agreeable this time around." 

"If I were, we wouldn't be wasting our time talking."

"Is there someone else?" By his tone, he wasn't all that disappointed. Then again, he was a master at avoiding romantic entanglements.

Was there someone else? In her heart, yes. "I just don't know how he really feels about me," she admitted.

He squeezed her hand. "I wouldn't dream of doing anything to jeopardize your future happiness. If this assignment is going to cause problems..."

"He can't possibly think any worse of me," she interrupted him. "I don't have a problem pretending to be involved with you. In fact, I may actually enjoy watching him squirm."

James raised her hand to his lips. "Dorothy, I can truly say that I'm glad I'm not the man caught on your hook."

"Papa!" 

Jamila shrieked the moment she stepped onto the concourse and spotted him, and Quatre met her halfway to scoop her up, swing her around and hug her close. He had missed her so much in the last few months that tears of joy watered his eyes as he held her in his arms. She held tightly to him, like a monkey, so he didn't bother trying to set her back down. Instead, he propped her on his hip and ignored the disapproving glances from the men who had accompanied him to the spaceport to welcome his daughter home. 

"Why are you crying, papa?" she asked as she wiped a tear from his cheek.

He kissed both of her cheeks. "Because I missed you so much and I am so happy to see you again."

"I am so happy to see you too," she said, "but I'm not crying."

Rashid arrived with Hadya, both looking worn out from the trip from L3. "There weren't any problems?" Quatre asked. He didn't trust the scoundrels on L3 any more than he trusted any man that had called Hassan Barak a friend. He hadn't discovered how deeply involved the government on the neighboring colony had become in the political unrest on L4 until he had finally managed to oust Barak's faction from power. They had done everything except send actual armies to remove Mahmad Al-Jazar from the office to which he had been elected, primarily because Al-Jazar had adopted trade policies that detrimentally affected greedy businessmen on L3. Quatre had also discovered that Al-Jazar was not without his own faults. Records proved that he had taken bribes from so many people that he owed favors on all sides of the conflict, and while Quatre abhorred the violence that brought him down, he was glad not to have to deal with the man.

"There weren't any problems," said Rashid.

Hadya cleared her throat. "We had almost had an altercation with Preventer agents at the spaceport on L3 when we were about to leave."

Quatre raised his brow and looked back at Rashid. It wasn't like him to leave out details that important. "An altercation?"

"A misunderstanding," Rashid told him, his cheeks a faint pink. "We were leaving at the moment the delegation from Earth was arriving."

"I saw Miss Dorothy!" chirped Jamila. "She's going to visit me in a few days."

Dorothy was coming to L4? Quatre looked from Rashid who wouldn't meet his gaze to Hadya who was frowning. There was something he wasn't being told.

"We should return to the palace," one of his advisors suggested. Ahmed al Hamad had been at Quatre's side since his return three months ago. Although Quatre was leery of trusting any man who had worked for his father, Ahmed was also married to one of his sisters. By the time he arrived on L4, Ahmed had gathered a legion of followers who wanted to return to the old ways, to trust the Winner family to lead them. Quatre had avoided the responsibility, had gone out of his way to stay away from any leadership role on his colony because he didn't feel worthy to carry on after his father. But he understood now that for the stability of the colony he was going to have to take control or war would continue on L4 and spill out into space. 

"You're right," said Quatre. "We can continue this discussion in privacy."

As they returned to the presidential palace in a limousine, the streets were lined with cheering people held back by men carrying rifles. Quatre disliked the necessity of keeping distance from those that had helped him retake the capital city, but many of Barak's supporters were still out there waiting for the chance to retaliate. Jamila was completely oblivious to the danger and chattered on about her stay on L3 where she had made many friends among the children that her aunt taught. Quatre was glad that she had an opportunity to be with other children after leading such a sheltered life under the thumb of her deranged mother. Jamila seemed to be adjusting to life without Sadirah Barak.

The presidential palace was more ostentatious than the Winner Residence where Quatre's father had chosen to live while administering to the colony. This palace had been built during the OZ occupation to house their puppet leader, but it had become symbolic of leadership on the colony so Quatre had no choice but to make a home there. The right wing of the palace served as a meeting place for representatives from around the colony, while the left housed the offices of the president and his cabinet of advisors. The entire back wing was a residence consisting of dozens of suites in addition to the luxurious master suites that Quatre now used as a refuge from the day to day problems of administration. He had never realized how difficult his father's position had been, nor had he understood his strong stance on peace when Quatre knew that fighting was a necessary evil. Yet after months of combat in villages and on the streets, he could admit that his father had only the best interests of the colony in mind when he tried to keep out OZ.

Although he had work to do, Quatre spent the day with Jamila. Hadya was tired from her trip and had retired to one of the suites while Rashid left to make a report to Ahmed. Quatre would hear about it later, so he concentrated on enjoying the time he spent with his daughter. After lunch, they went for a walk in the garden where she took off her shoes and stockings and splashed about in a fountain pool. A group of colorfully clothed young women giggled behind veils they demurely held before their faces. They were daughters and sisters of representatives, lurking in the garden to pass the time hoping to catch his eye. Ahmed had commented on more than one occasion that he should choose a new wife wisely. There was only one woman he would consider for his wife, only one to whom he would trust the welfare of his daughter. And she was coming to L4.

Late in the afternoon, Jamila finally showed signs of tiring, so he took her back to his own room where she curled up on the bed and soon fell asleep. He summoned Rashid and Hadya to his private salon and wasn't surprised that Ahmed joined them.

"Well?" he asked when they were assembled. "What happened on L3?"

Hadya opened her mouth to speak, but Rashid beat her to it. "When Missy Jamila saw Miss Dorothy at the spaceport, she broke away from us to go to her. Seeing her headed toward the delegation from L3, our men drew their weapons, and the Preventer agents drew theirs."

"Why was Miss Dorothy on L3?" Quatre hoped in his heart that she was ready to forgive him. 

"To be with James Sheffield," snapped Hadya irritably.

"Ambassador Sheffield?" Quatre had already read a report about the arriving ambassador and found no reason to object to his appointment. He had no ties to the consortium that had backed the Barak overthrow of the government on L4, he was experienced in diplomacy and was wealthy enough in his own right not to be swayed by the promise of riches.

"Dorothy Catalonia is one of his many women." Hadya folded her arms over her chest. "I hope your broken heart is mended because she is coming to L4 as his companion."

Quatre didn't want to believe her, and turning to Ahmed for confirmation, the man nodded. "Why did you not tell me this before now?"

Ahmed sighed. "I was afraid that you would let your personal feelings interfere with negotiations with L3. I had considered revoking her passport to enter the colony given her association with OZ, but that might have put a strain on our relations with Earth given her friendship with Relena Darlian."

Deep disappointment settled in the pit of his stomach as he realized that Dorothy wasn't coming to L4 to see him. Instead she had moved on with her life, clearly proving to him that he would not be a part of it. "How long has she been seeing him?" 

Hadya answered. "They have known each other for four years. Until she started seeing Randolph Morrison, she was Sheffield's companion when he was sent to Earth on colony business. He has whores like that all over the colonies, women of impeccable breeding to show off at formal dinners then keep him from getting too cold at night."

Quatre frowned at her. "You seem to know a lot about Sheffield." The image of Dorothy she was giving him was unpleasant, and yet he didn't really know what she had done in the years since they had been together in Barbados. He hadn't even been able to discover what she had been hiding in Switzerland.

"Is this going to be a problem?" asked Ahmed. "It's not too late to refuse the ambassador from L3."

Quatre shook his head. "They might consider it a precursor to a declaration of war. I don't want any more fighting."

Ahmed nodded, then put his hand on Quatre's shoulder. "You have to forget your feelings for this woman. I don't think I have to remind you of all the reasons she would not be suitable as your wife. She would never be accepted by our people for the things her family has done to this colony, for what she did to you on the Libra. Even Barak's people suspect her of causing his death on Earth."

"You don't need to remind me," muttered Quatre. But he wasn't going to let the opinions of others guide his actions. If Dorothy didn't want to be with him, he would accept it, but he would not choose a 'suitable' woman to take her place, not in his home, certainly not in his heart. 

Ahmed and Hadya left him, but Rashid stayed behind. "What plans do you have for Miss Dorothy?"

Quatre didn't know what to tell him. "I don't really know."

"Do you think you can stand to see her with another man?"

"I can handle it." He didn't really have a choice.


	17. Chapter 17

****

Chapter 17

The moment he saw her enter the room with another man at her side, Quatre knew it was going to be next to impossible to function rationally. Standing between Ahmed and Majid Al-Jazar, the brother of the assassinated president, Quatre could do nothing but attempt to watch impassively as she approached beside the man he recognized from reports as James Sheffield. Although they didn't touch, Quatre saw them share an intimate smile that clawed painfully at his insides. 

"That woman," spoke up Majid Al-Jazar. "Who is she?" Majid had been respectfully opposed to some of his brother's policies and had embraced Quatre's return with enthusiasm. Although Quatre was still vaguely suspicious of him, Majid had not shown any disloyalty during the struggle that brought him to the presidential palace, so Quatre had given him an appointment in his council of advisors. 

"Dorothy Catalonia," answered Ahmed in a low voice, probably hoping that Quatre wouldn't hear them talking about her. What man in the room wouldn't be thinking about her? Although her hair was pulled back from her finely boned face and held by pearl studded combs, the long platinum waves hung loose down her back. Dressed respectably in a knee-length, sleeveless silk dress that brought out the startling blue of her eyes, the fabric clung to her curves so provocatively that a man could think of only one thing when looking at her.

"General Catalonia's daughter?" asked Majid. "What is _she_ doing here?"

Nobody answered that question because her purpose in being with James Sheffield seemed to be obvious. Even Quatre had no choice but to believe the accusations his sister had made concerning their relationship. 

Quatre had forgotten that Relena Darlian was with the group until she was standing before him and holding out her hand. He tore his eyes from Dorothy who was pointedly ignoring him and took the hand offered by the Vice Foreign Minister of the Earth Sphere United Nation. "Miss Relena, I am glad that your delegation has accepted my offer to stay at the presidential palace."

She smiled. "I don't think we had much choice being that the embassies of both Earth and L3 were substantially damaged during your recent conflict."

Recent conflict. That was a diplomatic way of saying civil war. Much of the capital city was 'substantially damaged', and as a consequence there were many homeless people and orphaned children. The 'recent conflict' had been short and brutal. Quatre had added that to his growing list of his life's regrets. He hadn't wanted to involve innocent men, women and children to the power struggle, but the allies Barak had gathered had no qualms about using them. Quatre was beginning to feel that he had too much to atone for in his life beginning with the moment he had agreed to pilot a gundam. 

Relena was speaking to him, and he didn't hear what she said, but his noncommittal response seemed acceptable to her before she moved on to speak to Ahmed with whom she had already entered in negotiations before arriving on L4 this day. Quatre noticed the uniformed Heero Yuy standing among the Preventer agents accompanying the delegation from Earth. James Sheffield had arrived without escort from his planet, a move that earned him some grudging respect for his courage from Quatre's council. The man proved that his mission was purely diplomatic and that he trusted the new administration. Unfortunately, Quatre knew that there were many on L4 who would like the opportunity to take a shot at the representative of the neighboring colony that had provided the funds to draw out the bloody struggle on L4. 

By the time Relena had finished speaking to Ahmed, James Sheffield had made his way to her and was waiting for an introduction. Dorothy was standing close but behind the ambassador, and Quatre noticed that she was assessing the men around him while avoiding any direct eye contact with him. He assumed that she was uncomfortable, probably as uncomfortable as he was at the moment. 

"You haven't met James Sheffield, the newly appointed ambassador from L3," Relena was saying.

Quatre wasn't paying any attention. He noticed that Dorothy looked to Heero Yuy who gave her an almost imperceptible nod. Was something going on between them? How many men did she have dangling on her line?

"I am greatly honored to meet you, Mr. Winner." 

Quatre turned his head to look at James Sheffield who was standing with his hand extended for a handshake. He stared at it for a moment, then raised his eyes to look at Sheffield's face. The man was a few years older than him, and the look in his amber eyes told Quatre that he was gauging his every response, probably filing it away in his diplomatic mind for future reference. He had no reason to personally dislike Sheffield if he discarded the fact that he was sleeping with Dorothy. Dorothy was standing so close to Sheffield now that she was almost touching him, but she was watching Ahmed and Majid closely instead of looking at him. 

He didn't take the hand that was offered. "Your colony has much to answer for," Quatre finally said. His head was already starting to ache as he tried to read the undercurrents flowing in the room. Heero was watching him; Dorothy was watching Majid and Ahmed. The Preventer agents seemed tense.

Sheffield dropped his hand to his side. "My government is hoping that this can be the start of a new relationship."

"We shall see." Quatre wanted to avoid war, but he wasn't going to let L3 off easy. 

Sheffield moved to his side and slid his arm around Dorothy's waist to bring her forward. Quatre stared at the hand touching her so possessively, then slowly raised his eyes to her face. She was smiling, but not the vindictive smile of a woman hoping to make him jealous although she had succeeded effortlessly. 

"You are acquainted with Miss Catalonia," Sheffield said.

"Of course," he replied, glad that he was able to keep his voice steady. Standing so close to her, all he could think about was holding her in his arms. Dorothy didn't offer her hand; he did not extend his. His insides felt knotted, and he didn't know how he was able to speak. "What brings you to L4?"

She said, "I have a promise to keep." She hadn't made him any promises, but Quatre could still foolishly hope that she could forgive him. "I hope you do not mind that while you are in meetings that I visit with Jamila."

Quatre felt keen disappointment that her thoughts were for his daughter, but he managed to swallow it. "She will be delighted to know that you have arrived. At the moment she is with my sister, Hadya."

"I will arrange for her escort," spoke up Ahmed. Ahmed clearly did not trust her, but Quatre would never make that mistake again. Jamila was safer with Dorothy than any other person.

As Ahmed motioned for a guard, Dorothy turned back to Sheffield. "I will see you later."

He leaned close to her and whispered something in her ear that made her smile intimately into his eyes, then squeeze his hand in a proper gesture of affection before she left with the guard without giving Quatre another glance.

Quatre felt disoriented and completely detached from the entire scene. His heart had just been shredded and everyone around him was talking about the recent war and the destruction of many parts of L4 oblivious to his pain. The weather control system, already set to simulate the conditions of the middle east on Earth were the first settlers of L4 had originated from, was malfunctioning so that the weather was almost as unpredictable as Earth. Technicians from L2 were working on it, but until it was fixed they suffered unbearable heat. Half the water recollection and recycling units had been damaged during the war, so water was rationed to an already suffering populace. Quatre had read a report about the rise and spread of primitive diseases caused by the unsanitary conditions on the colony. The responsibility on his shoulders was staggering, and yet all Quatre could think about was Dorothy Catalonia.

Before entering the conference room where they would begin the negotiations, all three delegations met in a salon for refreshments. Used to the heat by now, Quatre was somewhat maliciously amused to see the urbane James Sheffield loosen his tie and unbutton his suit coat. Quatre was dressed in the loose, lightweight shirt and trousers under a long, light coat that was traditional business wear among his people. The men from L3 and Earth were obviously uncomfortable with the lack of air-conditioning and the occasional disruption to the ventilation system.

"I was aware of the problems on your colony, but I didn't imagine you were suffering like this."

Quatre turned his head to see Relena fanning herself with an ornate tissue fan. She had obviously come prepared. "It may take some time, but we will rebuild."

Relena nodded. "I hope you intend to listen to James Sheffield. His government feels a great deal of remorse for backing the wrong horse."

"I have allowed them to send an ambassador," he pointed out. "But I have no intention of forgiving them for any culpability in what happened on this colony."

"Your acceptance of James Sheffield is a start." Relena was looking at Sheffield who was now in discussion with Ahmed while Majid watched him suspiciously. "He will make an excellent ambassador. I have worked with him in the past and I know that he thoroughly investigates all angles."

Quatre raised a brow. Is that why he had brought Dorothy with him, to dangle before him like a carrot? Was he trying to distract him?

As if she could read his thoughts, Relena remarked, "He has been good for Dorothy. She has been rather morose since Randolph Morrison's death, so I'm glad that she's started seeing someone else."

Quatre glanced at her. "Are they serious?"

Her answer didn't please him. "They haven't been apart since reuniting a couple of weeks ago." She smiled smugly. "I'm quite sure that an official announcement will be forthcoming in the next few weeks. They are a perfect couple. I think they'll be happy together."

Relena was chattering on about them, but Quatre didn't hear anything beyond her speculation that Dorothy and Sheffield would be making an announcement. He could do nothing but stare at the man Dorothy would probably spend the rest of her life with. Quatre willed him to be a scoundrel like Randolph Morrison so that he could save her from him, but he already knew by the extensive research done on Sheffield that the ambassador would be an ideal husband for Dorothy if he planned to enter into such an exclusive relationship. A man of his station needed a woman like her at his side. He would be a fool to look elsewhere.

Yet the realization that he had lost her hit Quatre with such force that he felt as though he were in an unpleasant dream. From some distant point, he heard Ahmed inform him that they were ready to begin the meeting. He joined them in the conference room, but he only caught a few words of what they were saying. 

Sheffield was talking, and as Quatre watched his lips move, he recalled seeing them brush against Dorothy's ear as he whispered to her and he imagined them kissing her. He heard the words in disjointed fashion. Reparations. Technical support. Favorable trade contracts. He used his hands as he spoke, and he remembered how his hand had rested on Dorothy's waist, how she had touched his hand when she left. Quatre let out a deep sigh that was almost a groan as he imagined Sheffield's hands sliding over her body.

"Master Quatre," whispered Ahmed sharply, attempting to draw him out of his jealousy induced miasma. 

Quatre couldn't concentrate. "I need some air," he whispered back. 

Majid leaned toward them. "I agree to a break. We should look over their proposals."

Quatre noticed an untouched leather portfolio that had been set before him on the table. His gaze slid to James Sheffield. The man was watching him with bemusement. Quatre tried to pull himself together and reached out an unsteady hand to open the portfolio.

Ahmed reached out to put his hand over Quatre's, probably hoping to disguise any hint of weakness on his part. He leaned over to speak to him harshly in Arabic. "It's that woman, isn't it! You have to put her from your mind!"

Majid snorted with disgust. "Sheffield is using her to get to you. And you're letting him."

Quatre pushed himself to his feet, and he looked at the delegation from L3 as well as Relena who was watching him with her brows furrowed. "We will have to continue this discussion another time." Without any further explanation, he walked out the door ignoring the sudden outburst of discussion in the conference room before the door closed behind him. 

Although he wanted to seek out Dorothy and demand an explanation, Quatre knew that he didn't deserve one. So he started for the garden. He found a spot in the shade of a tree before a trickling fountain and he tried unsuccessfully to rein in his thoughts as he sat on the ground with his back to the tree. When he heard footsteps, he feared it was Ahmed coming to scold him further about his behavior, but he noticed with mild surprise that it was Relena accompanied by Heero Yuy. 

"We've been friends for a long time," she said, almost out of breath when she was finally standing over him. "This isn't like you Quatre! How is Sheffield supposed to view your refusal to sit at a table and hear him out? He's probably contacting his colony now to inform them of your behavior and they will begin making preparations for war."

"That is unlikely," Quatre said with a sigh. He looked up at Relena. "I doubt Sheffield would act so irrationally when he knows the reason I can't sit at the table with him. And besides, due to a problem with our satellites, any communications directed outside the colony can only occur during a window of about thirty minutes later in the day."

"Sheffield knows the reason you bolted the table?" Her brows were raised. "Perhaps you would care to enlighten me since I don't know what is going on between the two of you. He seemed as surprised as anyone that you left."

Quatre looked away from Relena. "Dorothy Catalonia."

"Dorothy Catalonia!" Relena was obviously surprised. "What does she have to do with any of this?" When Quatre didn't answer, she sighed. "Are you still holding that fight on the Libra against her? I assure you, Quatre, that she has changed!" When he didn't respond she continued, "And I'm sure you're not blaming her for the accident at the Dermail Mansion. She barely escaped from the fire herself."

Quatre looked past her to Heero Yuy who was watching him with no discernible emotion. "You didn't tell her?" 

"Tell me what?" demanded Relena, shooting a glare at Heero. 

"I don't gossip." Heero folded his arms over his chest.

Relena looked from him to Quatre. Her brows were raised in question.

Sighing, Quatre told her, "Dorothy and I were involved."

"Involved?" she repeated, her eyes questioning. She looked at Heero as if expecting him to explain, but he didn't even twitch. Relena spun back to Quatre. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Quatre ran a hand through his hair, damp from the humidity. "Several years ago we spent a week together in Barbados. When I returned to Earth, we picked up where we left off."

"What?" Relena blinked incomprehensibly then turned to Heero. "You knew about this and you didn't tell me?"

"I don't gossip," he repeated.

"Shouldn't I have been informed of this?" Getting no response, Relena looked back at Quatre. "It's over, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "I guess it is." His tone must not have satisfied her, because she looked horrified. 

"How did you plan to negotiate with Sheffield when...when..." Relena didn't know how to delicately point out his liaison with Dorothy.

"Don't worry. I'll be recovered by tomorrow. I wasn't prepared for the shock of seeing her with Sheffield. I just need a little time to work this out." Quatre could only hope that he was telling the truth.

Relena looked him in the eye. "You had better do just that Quatre because an entire colony is depending on you. I wasn't blind to the suffering I saw in the streets on the way from the spaceport to this palace. This colony is crippled now and a war with L3 would destroy it." With that, she turned on her heel and marched away.

"She's right," commented Heero when she had gone. 

Quatre pulled off his jacket and tossed it aside. "Why did you let Dorothy come here with him when you knew how I felt?"

"I have no control over what Dorothy Catalonia does." Quatre sensed Heero had his own reasons for Dorothy's presence on L4 but his friend wasn't going to be telling him.

"Does Sheffield know about Dorothy and me?" asked Quatre curiously. Discovering that Relena had been ignorant of their relationship, Quatre wondered if Sheffield had been brazen enough to bring Dorothy as a distraction or whether he was as oblivious as the Vice Foreign Minister.

"I don't know what goes on between them," Heero answered. "Maybe you should ask her yourself." He nodded past him and Quatre turned to see that Dorothy was approaching wearing a look that could kill. Fortunately it seemed to be reserved for Heero Yuy. The Preventer agent shoved his hands in his pockets, then walked away without even greeting her.

Dorothy stopped a few feet away from where Quatre was sitting, but she watched with a narrowed gaze as Heero followed the path that Relena had taken. Quatre drank in the sight of her, resisting an almost overpowering urge to reach out and pull her into his arms. The heat and humidity had taken its toll on her dress, which stuck to her almost indecently. Her skin was flushed and glistening, and the hair framing her face was wet and clinging to her until she lifted her hand and shoved her fingers through it. Quatre thought of hot, hazy afternoons lying amongst damp sheets, her slick limbs tangled with his own.

Turning back to look at Quatre, Dorothy was pleasantly startled to see the heat in his blue gaze. For a moment she couldn't think of anything to say, and Quatre seemed to be content just to stare at her. She had been with Jamila when she happened to look out the window over the wilting garden to see Heero Yuy talking to Quatre. Jamila was probably confused that Dorothy left her so suddenly, but she couldn't risk Heero telling Quatre about the baby before she had a chance.

"Under other circumstances, I would say that I'm happy to see you," Quatre finally said.

She heard the resentment in his voice, but if he expected her to feel any guilt, he was going to be disappointed. "I had a nice visit with Jamila. She has invited me for tea tomorrow."

"I appreciate your interest in my daughter."

His tone didn't match the sentiment. Dorothy suspected that he was jealous of the attention she was giving the four year old girl. "Your meeting didn't last long," she remarked. 

Quatre pulled himself to standing. "I couldn't concentrate." She didn't move when he took a step toward her, but her heart was beating faster. She wasn't afraid that he would hurt her, but if he touched her, she might do or say something very foolish. "All I could think of was you."

She looked up at his face. It would be so easy to reach out and draw him to her, but she couldn't jeopardize her mission. Dorothy didn't trust the men that Quatre surrounded himself with. At the moment James was safe enough with the Preventer agents nearby, but they were charged only with protecting the Vice Foreign Minister. She was responsible for James Sheffield at all other times.

"Am I supposed to be flattered?" she asked with disdain. She saw the hurt mingle with anger in the depths of his eyes. "Do you expect me to melt in your arms like I did in Barbados? I'm not the same girl you took advantage of. Thanks to you and men like you, I'm a little wiser now."

"Do you think Sheffield isn't taking advantage of you?" 

She raised a brow. "Whatever is between James Sheffield and myself is none of your damn business, Quatre Raberba Winner. I've come to realize that I was nothing to you but a conquest."

"That's not true!" he denied angrily, reaching out to her, but Dorothy stepped away from him.

"You don't have to deny it. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't change anything." She could see that he was fighting an inner battle, probably against the half of him that wanted to throw her over his shoulder to carry away. Unlike Barbados, she was now in control and he was the one unsure of himself.

"So this is it, Dorothy?"

She softened a little towards him. "This has to be it, Quatre. Even if I could forgive you, you have gone beyond my reach. My place is with James Sheffield now, and you have a colony that needs you." Dorothy didn't quite feel right about telling him about the baby now, especially when she noticed a group of young women watching them curiously, whispering to each other. "We have an audience," she commented.

Quatre glanced at them for a moment, then looked back at Dorothy. "Ahmed thinks I should take a wife from amongst them."

It pained Dorothy to admit, "He is probably right." She let out a sigh. "There is something I wish to talk to you about, but now is not the time and this is not the place." Quatre didn't respond as he stared at the group of women. Dorothy had the unpleasant feeling that he was making his choice at that moment. "I will see you later," she said.

He nodded and looked at her. "At the reception."

"I'm sorry it has to be this way," she said, then turned and left the garden. 

A servant escorted her to her room, then raised a brow when she inquired about James Sheffield's accommodations. His room was further down the hall, and despite the look of mortification she received, she instructed the servant to have her things sent to his room. After she was settled, Dorothy lay down on the bed to wait for James to return. She couldn't help but think about how startled Quatre had looked when she entered the room with James. Dorothy had to remind herself of her reason for being there to keep from staring at the leader of L4. She hadn't missed the pain in his eyes when she had left to see Jamila and she regretted causing it even after the pain he had caused her. With a deep sigh, she admitted to herself that she couldn't help loving him. 

She had fallen asleep with fantasies of her life with Quatre, fantasies that became a dream from which she did not want to awaken. But sometime later, she slowly returned to consciousness when she felt the zipper at the back of her dress sliding slowly downward, fingers grazing her flesh, and then pausing to unhook her bra.

When she felt warm lips at the base of her neck, she said, "Do I need to remind you that I have a gun, James."

"You wouldn't use it on me," he breathed in her ear.

Dorothy rolled onto her back and he put his hands on either side of her. He had removed his jacket and tie and his damp shirt was hanging open. He was a tempting sight, but Dorothy's heart was elsewhere. "How was your meeting?"

He leaned close to her. "I'm sure you already know and you know why."

"I did speak to Quatre Winner briefly," she admitted.

James smiled down at her. "You know Dorothy, I actually thought you were stringing Heero Yuy along. It was obvious the two of you have some chemistry and I knew you had worked closely with him in Switzerland. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was Quatre Winner you had nailed to a wall."

"You don't have to worry about Quatre Winner," she told him.

"You are so right, Dorothy, because if Winner doesn't pull it together, there are others willing to take his place."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

James pushed himself from the bed. "My government wants stability on this colony. If Quatre Winner won't provide it, I am authorized to find someone who will."

Dorothy sat up. "Are you suggesting that you will back another coup?"

"I don't want to do that, Dorothy, but Winner seems just as unstable as his father was. I had hoped that he would understand the importance of improving relations, but all he seems concerned with at the moment is you." James chuckled. "I can't say that I blame him, especially if you actually gave yourself to him, Dorothy."

"I gave myself to you, James, but you don't seem all that distracted by my presence."

He came to her and drew her against him. "You let me have you, Dorothy, but you never gave me your heart."

"You didn't ask for it," she reminded him.

He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up. His eyes met hers. "When I saw you that first time in the restaurant, I thought you might be the woman meant for me. I couldn't get you out of my mind, and you can't imagine how I felt when you called me."

Dorothy smiled at him. "You don't expect me to believe this, James?"

He sighed. "I realized that you had a broken heart, and I hoped to mend it. I never did, did I Dorothy? Quatre Winner broke your heart, and now you're breaking his."

"I'm not trying to break his heart. I have a job to do."

"I want to understand it all, Dorothy. If you want me to trust him, I have to know exactly what's going on."

Dorothy would probably regret doing so, but she told James everything about Barbados, about what had happened in Switzerland, and ending with the truth of what happened at the Dermail Mansion. 

He listened to her without comment, and when she finished, he said, "Winner isn't going to be happy to hear what you kept from him."

"I know that." 

Before he could comment further, a knock at the door interrupted. Dorothy reached for the gun she had placed on the table beside the bed and followed James to the door. When he would have opened it, she pushed him against the wall, hid the gun behind her back and opened the door.

It was Heero Yuy.

She stepped aside to let him in and noticed that James rolled his eyes. 

Heero's gaze swept over James with ill-concealed disgust, then he turned his back on the ambassador to speak to Dorothy. "What do you know about Majid Al-Jazar?"

"He is the brother of Mahmad Al-Jazar. According to Hadya Winner, they were not very close, but we can't discount family loyalty."

"Do you believe that Majid Al-Jazar may make an attempt on my life?" asked James as he came to stand behind Dorothy. When he reached up to refasten her bra and zip up her dress, she noticed Heero watching, and when his eyes met hers, she saw disappointment. She had nothing to feel guilty about and she certainly didn't owe him any explanations.

Heero looked at James. "Our agents have learned of a plot to derail these negotiations. We have no details."

James reached over to open the door. "Then maybe you should be out gathering details instead of bothering us."

Heero ignored him for a moment and turned to Dorothy. "Try to focus on what is really important, Dorothy."

She suspected that he wasn't talking about James Sheffield's protection. "Let me know if you discover anything."

Heero had barely stepped over the threshold when James slammed the door shut.

Dorothy almost laughed and was about to tease him about being jealous of Heero Yuy, but James spoke first. 

"You spoke to Hadya Winner? Did she say anything about me?"


	18. Chapter 18

****

Chapter 18

"Look, Papa, there's Miss Dorothy! I'm going to say hello to her!"

Before either Quatre or Hadya could stop her, Jamila dashed away in the direction of the newly arrived James Sheffield escorting Dorothy Catalonia. Jamila must have been watching intently for her arrival at the reception because she had spotted her across a crowded room. Quatre wouldn't have missed her either. Her white evening gown was low cut in the front and left her back bare to her waist, and while the designer gown wasn't indecent, she certainly turned many heads as she leaned down to greet Jamila, kissing her cheeks before making a formal introduction to the ambassador. Quatre watched Jamila curtsey politely to Sheffield, then slip her hand into Dorothy's, raising her head to stare at her with adoration. Quatre guessed that Jamila had made a remark about Dorothy's diamond and sapphire necklace because Dorothy reached up to touch it as she responded.

"She's beautiful," remarked Hadya, a note of dejection in her voice.

Dorothy's hair was held up with hairpins that matched her necklace, dangling earrings and a bracelet that she now unclasped and slipped off her wrist. The set was worth a fortune, no doubt a legacy from her mother, but Dorothy wrapped the bracelet around Jamila's wrist a couple of times before clasping it.

"She adores Jamila."

Quatre glanced at Hadya. "I thought you didn't like her."

Hadya sighed. "I spoke with her today."

He raised a brow. "What did you talk about?"

His sister frowned at him. "Not that it is any of your business, but she asked a lot of questions about the people in whom you have placed your confidence. I think she has some feelings left for you and is concerned about your safety."

He had assumed that Hadya disapproved of any further involvement with Dorothy Catalonia. "What else did you discuss?" When she didn't answer his question, he noticed that she was looking in the direction of the woman who was the subject of their conversation, but Hadya's gaze was on James Sheffield. He had a sudden revelation about his sister's interest in Dorothy Catalonia and it had nothing to do with his happiness.

Jamila was pulling Dorothy through the crowd while Sheffield was forced to stop when Relena Darlian hailed him. Dorothy was breathless as she came to a stop before Quatre, and he could see by the blush that rose to her cheeks that she was embarrassed to find herself before him. A strand of her hair had slipped from the pins, and he couldn't resist reaching out to tuck it behind her ear. Her blush deepened, and Quatre noticed that the voices had become lower around them. He realized that he shouldn't have done something so intimate, and he could see disapproval on the faces of men and women of his colony. 

"Look what Miss Dorothy gave me!" exclaimed Jamila, drawing his attention from his social blunder.

Quatre looked at the bracelet wrapped around her wrist, then turned to Dorothy. "Jamila cannot accept such a gift."

"Of course she can," argued Dorothy softly with an encouraging smile at his daughter. 

"It must be an heirloom," he pointed out. 

"Miss Dorothy says I can have it," pouted Jamila.

Dorothy looked at Quatre. "I think I have the right to dispose of my heirlooms as I see fit. If you don't want Jamila to have it, then you may tell her so, but I have no intention of demanding it back."

Quatre was outnumbered and knew when to quit. "You may keep it, Jamila."

She clapped her little hands together, then turned her full attention to Dorothy. "It is getting very late, and I have already eaten, but Papa told me I could see you before I go to bed."

Dorothy reached out to caress her cheek. "Then you are leaving?"

Jamila smiled up at her. "All these old people are very boring."

Quatre chuckled, then signaled to Rashid who was waiting to take Jamila to her room. "Be good for Rashid."

Jamila slipped her hand in Rashid's, but she spoke to Dorothy one last time before leaving. "Will you read me a story tonight, like you did the time I stayed at your house?"

Dorothy looked at Quatre. "If you have no objection, I will check on her later."

"None." Quatre caught himself wishing she would check on him later as well.

As Rashid escorted Jamila away, James Sheffield joined them, and this time Quatre shook his hand although he noticed Sheffield's other hand resting possessively on Dorothy's waist. 

"I hope you will forgive my behavior earlier today," began Quatre.

"It has already been forgotten." Sheffield shrugged. "You've been under a great deal of stress these last few weeks. I am grateful that you agreed to begin negotiations so soon. When you are ready to sit down at the table again, I will be at your service." He nodded to Hadya. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Winner."

Quatre noticed that his sister was blushing and he wondered if she was going to respond. So the man was good-looking, but Quatre didn't understand how his smile could render his opinionated sister speechless. He thought about jabbing her in the ribs with his elbow.

"It's nice to see you too, Mr. Sheffield," she finally croaked out in a peevishly small voice. 

Before the extremely uncomfortable exchange could continue, Majid approached with a pretty young woman that Quatre had seen once or twice before. Although not as striking as Sadirah had been, she was still quite lovely. 

"Allow me to introduce my niece, Yaminah, my late brother's daughter."

As he took her hand and she smiled shyly at him, Quatre noted with discomfort now that she was close that she was even younger than Sadirah had been when he first met her. Ahmed had suggested that he escort her to the table in honor of her father's memory, but he found the prospect of even pretending to flirt with the girl revolting. He glanced at Dorothy to see that she wasn't paying attention as she leaned close to James Sheffield to speak to him. 

Having no recourse, he offered his arm to Yaminah. "Will you honor me by joining me at the table?"

She took his arm while looking at his face with glowing adoration, but he couldn't be less attracted. He led her into the dining hall, trying to make small talk with her, but she was so young and inexperienced that she barely peeped out any responses. Fortunately, his sister was seated on the other side of him so he wasn't going to spend the entire meal attempting to drag out more than two words in a row from Yaminah Al-Jazar. Ahmed had already prepared a speech before the start of the meal, so Quatre was spared that ordeal.

At the conclusion of Ahmed's welcome to the delegations from Earth and L3, servants rushed to bring food to the long table. Quatre tried to keep his polite attention on the girl he had escorted, but his gaze strayed many times further down the table where Dorothy was seated between James Sheffield and Heero Yuy. If she wasn't talking to Sheffield, her head was bent toward the Preventer who whispered in her ear. Every time she smiled at either man, Quatre felt the cold shaft of jealousy drive further into his heart, especially when Sheffield tucked that same strand of hair behind her ear and took the opportunity to caress her cheek.

Hadya's coughing drew his attention to his sister who was setting aside her glass of water. Her eyes were on the same scene that had disturbed him.

"We're a sorry pair," he remarked wryly. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," she snapped, looking away from Sheffield.

Quatre leaned toward her. "Just how well do you know James Sheffield?"

Hadya looked at him, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "What are you implying? I met him on L3."

"And?" He raised his brows. 

"And...and...nothing!" Quatre read into that response that she wished there had been more to report. She stabbed at her meat so hard that her fork scraped the plate beneath. 

Quatre might have questioned her further had her attack on the meal not seemed so vicious. He looked back at Yaminah and caught her looking at him with undisguised infatuation and her uncle watching with pride. He lost his appetite.

"Anyway," grumbled Hadya from his left. "He seemed to have no trouble forgetting about me when I had to go to Earth."

Quatre was glad for the excuse not to look at Yaminah any more because she was starting to make him nervous, so he turned back to Hadya. "I wasn't aware that you didn't want to help me. If I had known…"

"How could turn you down when you needed me?" she snapped almost shrewishly, her eyes riveted instead on the ambassador from L3. Quatre didn't want to see what was infuriating her, but out of some need to cause himself further pain, he looked in Dorothy's direction. He was relieved to see Sheffield flirting with the woman to his left, but Dorothy was engaged in some deep discussion with Heero Yuy that precipitated them moving their heads close together. He doubted he could actually take Heero Yuy in a fight, but at the moment Quatre wanted to land just one punch on the man. 

"Master Quatre," spoke up Majid on the other side of Yaminah, forcing him to look her way again. "You may not be aware that Yaminah has had the finest tutors on L4 and that her work has come to the attention of university scholars."

"That is indeed an accomplishment," remarked Quatre. 

She blushed but did not respond.

By the time the second course of the meal arrived, Quatre had enough of the socially immature Yaminah, her hopeful uncle and his rabidly jealous sister. If he tried to excuse himself, he would not hear the end of it from Ahmed and most likely Relena Darlian would tear into him for potentially offending the delegation from L3. So Quatre gritted his teeth, ate what he thought he could hold down, and spoke to Yaminah just enough to keep from insulting her uncle. When he discovered that the girl had just celebrated her fourteenth birthday, Quatre almost threw down his napkin to leave the table, but she was so obviously proud of her position at his side that he didn't have the heart to hurt her feelings. 

The end of the meal couldn't come soon enough, and Quatre was relieved when it came time to thank Yaminah for the honor of sharing it with her. But as he left her side, he noticed her smiling uncle and Quatre hoped marriage contracts didn't show up on his desk in the morning. Unfortunately, upon turning around, he found himself face to face with the senator from one of the most heavily damaged sectors on the colony where a particularly fierce battle had raged for days. He greeted Quatre, then drew forth his daughter, Fayruz. Although not as pretty as Yaminah, she was at least a few years older, and she could respond when he spoke to her. A chamber concert was planned as the after dinner entertainment, and Quatre was caught escorting Fayruz. 

Ahmed took the seat on the other side of Quatre although he had another pretty young girl beside him. Quatre hadn't realized how safe he had been when married to Sadirah.

"You are wise to give some attention to Kaddar Al-Farouq. His daughter is pretty enough with little or no ambition. She would not trouble you as a wife, and your marriage to her would bring his sector much needed economic relief."

Quatre looked at Fayruz. She smiled. Although she didn't repulse him, she didn't attract him either. He turned back to his brother-in-law. "And Yaminah Al-Jazar?"

Ahmed stroked his bearded chin. "She is young and meek."

"She's too young." Quatre thought that would dismiss the girl from Ahmed's pool of candidates. 

"She is old enough to bear children. You need many children, Master Quatre, and she would do well in that capacity."

Frowning, Quatre looked past Ahmed to the girl beside him. She couldn't be more than ten years old! "I suppose you are suggesting I marry that girl as well? Will I be expected to take four wives?"

Ahmed started, glanced at the girl listening to the performing chamber orchestra, then turned back to Quatre with a deep frown. "That is my daughter."

Quatre sank back in his seat, realizing that he had insulted his brother-in-law by not even recognizing his own niece. The room was becoming impossibly stifling, and Quatre's nerves were on edge. Glancing around the room, he saw that Dorothy was sitting with Relena Darlian and Heero Yuy. Sheffield was with other men from L3 so Quatre at least knew he was separable from Dorothy. How could he use that to his advantage? By the time the first portion of the concert had ended, Quatre had a headache and needed to escape. So he excused himself during the intermission to flee into the garden where he pulled out a cigar and had it lit even before he found a far spot in the dark where he was reasonably assured that he wouldn't be found.

When he could hear the orchestra warming up to continue the concert, he took a long drag from the cigar, considered not returning, and then realized he would be scolded like a child by his council and by Relena Darlian. Once he returned, he knew he would have to partner up with another eligible young female and pretend to enjoy her company while all he really wanted to do was cross the room and take Dorothy Catalonia in his arms.

He was about to toss down his cigar when he heard footsteps on the stone walk, and he could tell by the clipping sound that it was a woman in heels. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in a compromising situation with some important man's daughter, sister or niece.

Before he could act, either dodge behind a tree or take another path back to the salon, he saw the white of the woman's gown and knew who it was. A sweat broke out over his forehead and his body reacted to the many erotic thoughts that crowded his head as she came into view, unescorted.

She stopped a few feet away from him, reached up to slip the stray hair back behind her ear, and then waved her hand to disperse the smoke as she wrinkled her nose. "I see you haven't given up this habit."

Quatre lit another cigar before grounding out the first one beneath his heel. "It's relaxing."

"It'll kill you."

"They are engineered without the carcinogens." He didn't tell her what ingredient made his cigars relaxing. However, at the moment it wasn't helping him get control of the desire to pull her in his arms.

He could hear the faint strains of the orchestra beginning a romantic piece. "I should get back," he said without moving. 

"Yes," she agreed. "Your prospective in-laws will be wondering where you are. So have you made a choice?"

"A long time ago, but something keeps getting in the way." Quatre took the chance of moving closer to her and reaching out to slip his arm around her waist.

"I didn't come out here for this," she said breathlessly while not making any attempt to escape his embrace. 

"Neither did I, but I'm not going to waste a good opportunity." He lowered his head to kiss her, but Dorothy suddenly twisted out of his arms and took a step away. Quatre almost swore. 

"I wanted to talk to you."

Listening was the last thing on his mind, but he knew by her tone that she was going to get her say. "You mentioned this afternoon that you wished to speak to me. I guess now you have a chance."

Dorothy looked around the garden, then turned in the direction she had come. Quatre followed her gaze and found himself grow rigid with anger to see Heero Yuy several yards away. When Dorothy turned back, she seemed to be relieved that he had been there, so Quatre kept his opinion about her perpetual shadow to himself.

"I owe you an explanation about Switzerland."

"You don't owe me anything." Quatre didn't want to hear what went on between her and Heero Yuy. Was that why he was lurking in the shadows? Was he there to protect her? He wished he could see her better, but the hologram of Earth's moon was not shining because he had decided not to squander the colony's meager resources for something that was purely aesthetic.

"I don't think I owe you anything either, but Heero Yuy seems to think I do." Her tone was resentful. Mention of the other man's name convinced Quatre that he was probably going to lose control and try to do something stupid to Heero Yuy that was going to get himself more banged up than any battle he fought in the war.

For a moment, she didn't say anything. Quatre imagined that she was trying to plan the phrasing she would use to tell him about her and his former friend. Quatre felt like an idiot waiting for her, knowing what she was going to say. Yuy had pretended to be ignorant of what had happened in Switzerland, then jerked him around when he wanted to trust Dorothy. Quatre had trusted him, and like the trust he had put in Hassan Barak, Yuy had used it against him and turned Dorothy away. Quatre had given the man his Porsche!

Dorothy took a breath.

Quatre didn't bother waiting to hear what she had to say to explain her affair with the Preventer. Pushing her aside, he strode quickly to where Heero was standing, his back to them. Grabbing his shoulder, he jerked him around and landed that one good punch on his jaw. 

Heero almost lost his balance, but his reflexes were too good to allow him to sprawl in the bushes. At least Quatre was able to strike him one more time. When Heero stumbled back, Dorothy caught up to them and grabbed his arm before he could hit him again.

"Let go of me!" Quatre snapped at Dorothy.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her voice in a lower tone to warn him not to make a scene.

Heero wiped the blood from his cut lip with the back of his hand. "What the hell did you tell him?"

"I didn't say anything!" In the dim light from the open salon doors, Quatre could see Dorothy glaring at him. 

It occurred to Quatre that he had made an error in his reasoning.

Heero snorted.

"Don't laugh!" snarled Dorothy. "If you laugh, I swear I will make you regret it." When she seemed to be assured that Heero Yuy wasn't going to laugh and make a complete fool out of Quatre, she pulled him back to the private spot where they had been before he lost his sanity.

Quatre shook off her hand and lit another cigar. Damn, he did feel like an idiot now. 

She needed a few more minutes to collect her thoughts, and Quatre tried not to finish his cigar too fast because if he did he would get a buzz that would render whatever she had to say irrelevant. 

"You obviously have gotten the wrong idea about Heero Yuy and myself. What I have to tell you has absolutely nothing to do with him except that the tenacious bastard discovered something that I wanted to keep to myself." She paused for a moment then said, "You thought something was going on between us?" Now she laughed.

Quatre felt an inch high. "If it wasn't about him, then what is it?"

She clasped her hands before her, and she looked at him. "I went to Switzerland to hide."

"Why?"

She sighed. "I was very upset when I returned from Barbados. My life had been turned inside out. I know now that it wasn't your fault and that you tried to contact me, but I felt humiliated. I wasn't about to let you degrade me any further."

"I understand." Quatre was sad to admit that he did. When he had first seen her in Barbados, his intention was to humiliate her by proving he wasn't the idealistic fool that she had defeated on the Libra. Quatre hadn't planned on her touching his heart as she had. When she refused to return his calls, he had wanted to return to Earth for a face to face confrontation with her, but Barak had made sure he was too busy to leave L4. Quatre's trust in Hassan Barak had been so profoundly misplaced that he would never recover.

"You wouldn't have recognized me as I had become. I had given you my heart and you had rejected me. I was so sick with depression that I couldn't even separate one day from another."

Quatre knew the feeling but he had been pushed relentlessly by Barak. "What changed?" he asked, knowing that for him, the incident with Sadirah had forced him back to reality. 

She didn't answer for a moment, and when she did, there was a tremor in her voice that told him she was on the verge of tears. "A baby."

"A baby?" Quatre didn't know what she was talking about.

"Our baby," she said. "I realized that I was pregnant."

Her announcement almost had the power to knock him over. As it was, he put his hand against a tree trunk to steady himself. Quatre didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to feel. The only thing he understood was that she had carried his child and never told him. He was sick with the knowledge that she didn't trust him enough with the responsibility, equally sick to realize exactly why. He couldn't blame Hassan Barak for every stupid move he had made in his life. The man didn't have anything to do with the lousy way he had treated Dorothy the first few days in Barbados when he had planned to seduce her and leave her. Barak had been annoyed by his disreputable behavior while on vacation, had even scolded him, and failing to curb him, used it against him in the end.

Yet he wanted to shake her for not telling him.

"Where is the child?" he asked, realizing that she could be hiding their son or daughter from him.

"I didn't know what to do," she explained. He was afraid that she would tell him that she had aborted the baby because he would never forgive her if she had. "When I decided to give it up for adoption, knowing I could not reasonably explain a child without destroying my reputation, and knowing that I would be a terrible mother, I found a couple that wanted a child of their own desperately. I thought the solution was perfect."

"Who are they?" he demanded. Whatever he had to do to get their child back, he would do so.

She ignored his question. "They made me realize how much I wanted to keep my baby. I didn't know what I would do to explain it until Heero Yuy showed up at my door offering me a job. I realized that I could go away, then invent a husband."

He didn't point out that all she had to do was inform him and she would have had a real husband. "Is that what you were hiding in Switzerland?"

Dorothy nodded.

"Where is our child?" he asked her. Had she changed her mind about keeping it?

"She...she never had a chance." Dorothy folded her arms across her chest and he could see that she was gripping them tightly. In his mind he could see her as she was then, five years younger, alone with no family to turn to, few whom she could call a friend. Quatre didn't like what he saw because he had caused it. 

She raised her head to look at him and he saw the tears sliding down her cheeks. "I wanted her! She was all I had! But I never even had a chance to hold her in my arms."

There was a stranglehold on his heart as he watched her suffer. "What happened?"

She had to compose herself before she could answer, and she told him tonelessly what had become of their daughter. "Late in my pregnancy, I started to have problems. Dr. Richter tried everything to help me, and when he tried to deliver me early, everything went wrong. I was in a coma for over two weeks, and when I awoke, he told me that he couldn't save my baby and that I barely survived." She wiped away a tear. "I wished I hadn't."

Quatre understood her pain and sorrow now, and he remembered clearly the day she had met Jamila the first time, how she had seemed instantly to fall in love with her. Jamila was very close to the age that their daughter would be if she had lived, and that is why Dorothy had quickly developed such deep feelings for her. And he had accused her of putting Jamila in danger? Quatre couldn't possibly feel more miserable than he did at the moment for everything he had put her through.

The music from the orchestra had ended followed by a burst of applause. Dorothy reached into her small handbag and drew out a handkerchief to wipe her face and eyes. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Quatre, but I saw no point when I discovered you had settled down with another woman with a child of your own."

He wanted to ask her why she chose to tell him now, but he knew that if she hadn't, Heero Yuy would have because his friend had agreed to look into what had happened in Switzerland. 

They stood in the garden in silence for several minutes, neither knowing what to say when she finally turned on her heel and left him alone in the dark. He tried to imagine how she felt to find out about his marriage to Sadirah so soon after she had lost their baby. He would never know what it felt like to nurture a life inside then lose it. And he would never know how it would feel to hold her in his arms, to share with her the miracle of creating life. Was this his punishment for defying his father, for the deaths he had caused in his gundam? Quatre didn't think he would ever be able to feel any happiness. 

He stayed in the garden long after the lights in the salon had been shut off and many of the guestrooms had grown dark. Finally he realized he had to get some sleep because the heavy burden of leading the colony back to normalcy was still resting on his shoulders. 

Ahmed was waiting for him just inside the salon, but he had dozed off in the chair, so Quatre walked quietly past him so that he would not wake the older man. Quatre didn't feel like making any explanations for his absence. On the way to the wing of the palace where his rooms were located, he walked through the corridor where he knew the guests stayed. Preventer agents were standing guard outside Relena Darlian's suite, but further down the hall where he knew James Sheffield was staying, there were none. He paused outside the door, raised his hand to knock, but he had nothing to say to Dorothy that could ease her pain or the ache in his own heart. He knew deep down inside that she had told him about the baby because she was trying to move her life forward. Quatre had no right to hold her back.

Instead of going straight to his room, he went first to Jamila's suite. He saw Hadya dozing on top of her bed, still dressed, and when he entered, she raised her head to look at him sleepily before lying back against the pillow and closing her eyes. The suite had been designed for the wife of the president, and there was a nursery attached where Jamila had her bed. Approaching it, Quatre noticed that the light was still on. She must have fallen asleep amongst her toys as she often did.

But when he opened the door and stepped in, the breath caught in his throat when he saw that Jamila was not alone. Dorothy was lying asleep on the bed, a picture book under her hand while her other arm was draped around Jamila whose blond head was on her shoulder. Dorothy's head was resting on Jamila's, and as he stared at the pair, he came to the sudden realization that he didn't know where Dorothy's hair ended and Jamila's began. 

__

"Were you acquainted with Dr. Niklaus Richter?"

Quatre remembered Heero asking him the question before he left him at the airport.

__

"His name is on your daughter's birth certificate. I thought you might have investigated Sadirah Barak's claims a little more thoroughly than you apparently have."

Quatre started to feel sick as he stared at the two most important people in his life. Jamila was still wearing the bracelet, but she now had Dorothy's necklace around her neck. 

__

"Yaqob killed him? Why?"

Finally Dorothy's words came back to him. 

__

"Dr. Richter tried everything to help me..."

Richter.

Quatre didn't even want his suspicion to turn into a coherent thought.

As quietly as he could, he backed from the room, then retraced his steps back to the corridor where the guests were staying. He went straight to Relena Darlian's room, and the Preventer agents seemed unsure whether they should stop him. In his present mood, he would probably end up getting himself killed trying to break down the door. Fortunately they judged him no threat and stepped aside.

He rapped on the door, and when there was no response, he knocked a little louder. The agents shifted uncomfortably, but Quatre ignored them and pounded.

The door finally opened a crack and he could see Relena, hair tousled, makeup smeared, holding together a man's shirt. He didn't need to guess what man was with her. He felt even more foolish, if that were possible, of suspecting Heero Yuy of being Dorothy's lover.

"Is Heero Yuy in there?" he asked impatiently.

She blushed. "Do you have any idea what time it is? What makes you think he would be in here?"

Suddenly she was dragged from view and Heero opened the door wider. He was dressed except for the shirt.

"I want to talk to you." If the circumstances were different, he might have laughed when Relena's bare arm appeared with the shirt, which Heero grabbed before stepping into the hall. Relena slammed the door on his backside.

"I'm getting a little tired of that," he muttered as he pulled on the shirt.

Quatre's feelings were so tangled that he was beginning to feel light-headed. He couldn't think of one emotion that he hadn't experienced that day, and each time it was to the greatest degree possible. 

"Where can we talk?" asked Heero, grabbing his arm and forcing him to move away from the Preventer agents watching them curiously. Quatre probably looked like a madman to them. As it was he was close to losing his sanity.

"I don't know!" Quatre couldn't concentrate. He kept seeing Dorothy and Jamila lying on his daughter's bed. He rubbed his eyes, then pushed his fingers through his hair. His head and heart ached so badly that he thought he would burst. 

"How about your office?"

"I don't trust it not to be bugged."

Heero grunted. "You've developed some sense of self-preservation."

"I don't even trust you."

His friend chuckled and put his hand up to his cheek, which Quatre noticed, was swollen. "Nice sucker punch, Winner. I'd like to return the favor, but I suspect it would cause a diplomatic incident."

"Does that mean I can punch you again for everything you haven't told me."

"We're not talking about that here," warned Heero. "How about the garden? That seems private enough."

"I don't want to go back out there! In taking the palace, we fought a bloody hand to hand battle in that garden and not one good thing has happened out there since, up to and including what Dorothy told me tonight." 

Heero swore, then dragged him back to the room he had exited. "Her room is clean of listening devices. I checked it myself." He pushed open the door.

In the middle of the huge, four poster bed with ornate velvet hangings, Relena sat up and Quatre saw more of her than he wanted. "Good, you're back! What did he..." She noticed him then and dived beneath the covers. 

"Is this something we want her to hear?" asked Quatre uncomfortably.

Relena's head popped out from beneath the covers. "Does this affect negotiations with L3?"

"No," said Heero. "Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping."

Quatre turned away and followed Heero to an overstuffed chair. By the time he had settled, Relena had pulled on a silk dressing gown and joined them. "Anyone care for a drink?" she asked as she headed to a side table where Quatre saw a bottle of wine. It was already half empty.

Heero ignored her. "I know how you must feel about what Dorothy told you."

"Bring me a glass of wine," Quatre told Relena.

"I thought you didn't drink alcohol," she remarked. When he didn't change his mind, she shrugged and poured him a glass. 

Quatre downed it immediately and held it out for more. "The last time I did this I ended up married to a girl that ultimately proved to be insane. Just get me some more. How could I do worse?"

Heero shrugged at Relena's questioning look. She shrugged as well, then brought Quatre the refilled glass. The bottle was empty, so he wasn't in danger of getting drunk. 

When he had finished the second glass of wine, he turned his full attention to Heero. "She told me about the baby."

"What baby?" asked Relena. When they didn't answer her, she took a breath. "All right! I refuse to remain in the dark. What baby are you talking about?"

"Dorothy's," said Quatre.

"Dorothy is pregnant?" Relena's eyes grew wide. "She hasn't been with Sheffield that long!"

"Dorothy isn't pregnant" snapped Heero irritably. "And get this lunatic idea that she's going to end up with that prick Sheffield out of your head."

"I don't know why you don't like him."

"I thought I just told you why. He's a prick."

Quatre put up his hand. "I didn't come here to listen to you two fight. I want to know what you found out in Switzerland."

"I found out why Yaqob killed Dr. Richter."

"He was Dorothy's doctor too, wasn't he?"

Heero nodded. "Five years ago, he received a tidy sum of money from an unidentified source on the day marked on Jamila's birth certificate as her date of birth."

"And Dorothy's baby?" demanded Quatre. "Did you find any record of that birth?"

"I wish we had something stronger than wine," remarked Relena. "I have a feeling I'm going to need another drink."

Heero ignored her. "There is no record of the baby's birth or death. Anyone who was in that delivery room with her is now dead, and not by natural causes."

"Yaqob killed them all?" Quatre couldn't believe he had trusted the man with the safety of his daughter. 

"Apparently, when Salim started asking questions, Richter thought he could get a little more money from Yaqob. I found his records in a safe hidden in his office, and he had documented the transaction down to the last detail. According to Richter's records, Yaqob had been with Sadirah when your future wife spotted Dorothy shopping for baby items. She put two and two together, and she sent Yaqob to follow her. Yaqob discovered where she was staying, in her mother's chalet with the caretakers, Greta and Albert Huffmann. What Dorothy didn't realize is that she was instrumental in putting their only son in prison for his role in the Romefeller plot to assassinate the president. They were apparently biding their time, waiting for a chance to take their revenge on her. So when Sadirah approached them, they were only too happy to accept her money. According to Richter's records, the Huffmanns introduced him to Sadirah Barak. He was able to discover that you didn't touch Sadirah Barak and she was beside herself in worry over how she was going to explain her failure to her father."

Quatre felt relief that he hadn't taken advantage of Sadirah, and yet he knew he was a fool for having believed her story in the first place. "How did he find out?"

"Money wasn't the only thing she gave him."

"The death she received was too good for her." Quatre had once felt some pity for her after everything she had gone through as a child, but now he felt cold, dark hatred for the young woman that had been his wife "And the Huffmann couple?"

"Dead. Their death was ruled accidental, but I have a hard time believing they would drive their car over the edge of a mountain."

"I'm going to have very bad dreams tonight," commented Relena before glaring at Heero. "You could have told me what was going on..."

"I don't gossip."

"Bastard! Dorothy is my friend!"

"She didn't tell you, did she? She didn't want you to know."

Relena fell silent.

Quatre looked at Heero. "Are you sure that Jamila is Dorothy's child?"

"They spent time in the hospital after the fire. I had the lab run the tests that you never would have considered to determine that their DNA matched. Sadirah Barak knew that you wouldn't check the maternity of her child, and she certainly had no reason to fear the paternity."

"That is why she never felt any affection for Jamila." Quatre clenched his fists wishing he could beat Sadirah for how she had treated Jamila. He hadn't done enough to protect his daughter, and he didn't deserve to keep her.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Relena as she put her hand over his.

Quatre shook his head. "I don't know what to do."

"You have to tell her," said Relena.

"She'll take Jamila from you," predicted Heero. "She'll be within her rights."

Quatre stood although he felt weak and faint. He hadn't eaten enough that night, he smoked one too many cigars, he had two glasses of wine and now he was being told that his daughter was going to be taken away from him.

He stumbled to the door, but before he reached it, Heero grabbed his arm. "Don't do anything stupid. You don't have to tell her right away."

"How can I not?"

Heero raised his brow. "I've known about this for three months now. What she doesn't know isn't going to hurt her. You have to remember that another person is involved in this pile of crap. How would Jamila feel if Dorothy wrenched her away from you? Her relationship with her real mother would never recover the loss of the only parent she has left. She's too young to understand what has happened, and Dorothy would be too hurt to do what is right."

"I can't do it. I can't keep the truth from Dorothy."

Heero shoved him against the door so hard that he felt the pain all the way down his spine. "You don't have a choice. You willingly allowed yourself to be screwed over by Barak. Dorothy doesn't even know how badly she was betrayed by those that she trusted. Don't fuck this up for her just so you can redeem yourself in her eyes."

Quatre didn't know how he was going to be able to keep the truth from her, but he nodded. "How will I know when to tell her?"

Heero raised a brow. "If I have to tell you that, then maybe you don't deserve her."


	19. Chapter 19

****

Chapter 19

The sense that someone was watching her awoke Dorothy, and tensing, she tried to remember where she had placed her handbag before joining Jamila on the bed to read the book that she had chosen. The handbag was on the small table beside the bed, on a shelf beneath the lamp and within reach. Before she made a move for her weapon, she opened her eyes in time to see Quatre turn and leave. For a moment, Dorothy imagined how pathetic she must look in his eyes, substituting the child he had with another woman for the daughter she had lost. But turning carefully so not to wake Jamila, Dorothy didn't care what he thought. As she watched Jamila sleep, she knew that she cared about her the little girl had charmed her way into her heart, not because she was transferring the love she had stored for her own child. 

Lifting the book, Dorothy frowned as she remembered her dismay when Jamila had chosen a book of an Arabic story with Arabic wording. Fortunately, Quatre had read the story to his daughter many times so Jamila ended up reading the book to Dorothy. She guessed that Jamila embellished the story a bit by the way she would look at her reaction on the pages where only a few symbols equated many words in Jamila's version of the story. Dorothy managed to keep from smiling with amusement because Jamila might be hurt thinking that Dorothy was laughing at her. By the time she finished the story, they were both sleepy; Jamila because she had been awake far past a normal bedtime and Dorothy because she was emotionally drained. She gave in when Jamila begged her to stay just a little longer because she was afraid of being alone although Dorothy knew that Rashid was in the outer room waiting for Hadya to return. Dorothy didn't want to leave anyway, and she was soon lulled asleep by Jamila's yawns and sighs. 

With much regret for having been awakened from a peaceful sleep, Dorothy carefully moved so that she wouldn't awaken Jamila. Her hair was a mess, half still pinned up, the other half-tangled and hanging past her shoulders, jeweled hairpins barely clinging to the strands. After pulling the remaining pins from her hair, she collected others that had fallen out on the pillow, then placed them in a music box with a compartment that Jamila hadn't filled. Returning to the bed. She carefully removed the necklace from Jamila's neck where she had placed it earlier, and with no regret, she carefully laid it in the music box along with the earrings, then closed it. Dorothy had a vague memory of her father giving her mother the set. It had been an obligatory gift upon the anniversary of their marriage. Her mother had shown him false gratitude and he had accepted it with the grace of a man who had performed a duty satisfactorily. Her mother had never worn it, and Dorothy guessed her father didn't care. The only happiness Dorothy could attach to it was the joy in Jamila's eyes when she clasped the bracelet around her wrist. For Jamila it would always hold the memory of that moment, just as it would for Dorothy.

After assuring herself that Jamila would be safe and was comfortably settled in her bed, Dorothy leaned down to press her lips to her forehead before quietly heading to the door. Her feet hurt and her heels made too much noise when she walked, so she pulled off her sandals to walk in her bare feet. Entering into the next room, she saw that Hadya had returned and was lying on her bed, but she stirred enough to raise her head a bit, then sigh when she saw that it was Dorothy.

"Is she sleeping?"

"Some time ago," whispered Dorothy. "I must have fallen asleep."

"My brother checked on her," Hadya whispered back. She added, "He usually does because his room is next door."

Dorothy recognized a hint when she heard one and she didn't have to wonder why Hadya would give her such information. In her place, Dorothy would be sound asleep by now, but Hadya was either a very light sleeper or she was waiting for an opportunity. James probably had candles lit and soft music playing and was getting sleepy waiting for someone to keep him company.

"James must be wondering where I am," Dorothy told her. "I should return to our room before he starts to worry."

She was almost amused to hear Hadya sigh with exasperation. Then Hadya said, "My brother seemed very upset about something."

"Perhaps you should go talk to him." Dorothy turned and headed to the door, her smile hidden from Hadya. "Good night."

Hadya grumbled something that was definitely not a wish for happy dreams as Dorothy left the room. As she was quietly closing the door, she realized that she wasn't alone in the hall, and turning she saw Quatre standing at the entrance to his room. He seemed just as surprised to see her, and she wondered where he had been since leaving Jamila's room. Looking completely weary, he stood staring at her without speaking. She didn't know how he felt about she what she had told him, and while she expected anger, she now saw sadness in his eyes. Dorothy hoped it wasn't pity because she had not wanted pity from anyone. 

She knew that she should go, but Dorothy didn't want to go back to James. With agents down the hall guarding Relena's room, he was probably safe enough. So she walked to Quatre to explain what she was doing there, but when she was standing close to him, she detected the faint odor of alcohol. 

"You've been drinking." Dorothy didn't like thinking that she had been the cause of a lapse in following his religious practices. 

"A glass or two of wine," he told her with a half smile. "There isn't much alcohol on L4. If there were, I probably wouldn't be standing here now."

"Is it because of what I told you?" she asked, fearing his answer.

"No, it is because of my selfish behavior." He reached out to sift his fingers through her tangled hair and she didn't move. "If I had been even just half a man, I wouldn't have let you go so easily."

She moved closer to him and reached up to loosen his tie. "We can't change the past, Quatre."

Quatre slid his arm around her waist and pulled her gently against him. "We're not going to waste the future, are we?"

Dorothy smiled up at him and pulled his head closer to hers, using the tie still around his neck. "At least not the next few hours."

He sighed and shook his head. "This isn't what I want."

She was close enough to him to know his body was sending different signals. "Then I guess I should be getting back to James."

Mention of his rival was enough to change his mind. He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers, but she didn't want the gentle kiss that would make her have thoughts that she didn't have a right to think. Parting her lips, she deepened the kiss when she still detected reluctance on his part, then moved her hands down to his chest where she worked the buttons open so she could touch his warm flesh.

Quatre raised his head. "I want more than this, Dorothy."

Pulling the shirt from his trousers, she leaned forward to kiss his neck as she slid her hands over the bared muscles of his chest, then around to his back. She stretched up to breathe into his ear, "You'll get more, but not here in the hall."

Before he had a chance to protest again, she reached over to grasp the doorknob and turn it. It wasn't locked, so the door opened easily, and she stepped away from Quatre to pass through the doorway into the dark room. Quatre waited in the doorway, leaning against it with his head hanging as he fought the battle she had lost in Barbados. His common sense was telling him to send her away while his body was overriding any prudent action. From the look on his face, she could not tell if he considered the battle won or lost when he stepped in and closed the door. 

Turning so that he didn't see her triumphant smile, she headed toward the gigantic luxurious bed on the far side of the room. After tucking her handbag under a pillow where it would be easy to reach, she turned back just as Quatre reached the bed. He pulled her against her, and his kiss wasn't as gentle as it was needy, and since Dorothy had the same need gnawing at her insides, she didn't protest his rough hands or the kiss that left her dizzy from lack of breath. But when he released her, she pushed him on the bed. 

He propped himself up on his elbows to watch as she pushed the flimsy straps of her gown over her shoulders, then tugged the garment down and over her hips until it fell in a puddle around her feet.

Quatre raised a brow as his eyes made the tour of her bare body. "Miss Dorothy, I was expecting a longer show."

He was obviously shocked that she hadn't been wearing anything under her gown. Smiling, she joined him on the bed, straddling him and pushing his open shirt over his shoulders. "I thought you liked it that way. After all, I was a proper girl before _you_ put ideas into my head."

"I'm not sure I like the change." Yet the husky tone of his voice betrayed him.

When he reached out to touch her, she jerked down the shirt so that his arms were pinned down. "We'll do it my way." Dorothy didn't want him touching her tenderly, putting ideas in her head that would ultimately end in her feelings being hurt. 

"Is this how it is with Sheffield?" She could hear the resentment in his voice and felt a twinge of guilt, but she realized they were better off if he didn't know the truth of her relationship with James Sheffield.

"Why should you care?" She ran her hands down his bare chest to the waistband of his trousers. "I'm with you now. I'll worry about Sheffield when I'm with him."

"I don't want to share you with him or any other man." His tone was jealous and possessive, and while Dorothy knew he couldn't belong to her, she felt primitive satisfaction in his desire to claim her.

"I don't belong to you, Quatre." She undid the fastenings of his trousers.

"I want you to belong to me." 

Dorothy put her fingers to his lips. "That can never be, Quatre. You have a life here that I can never be a part of." She replaced her fingers with her lips and didn't give him a chance to argue, and she was able to distract him for quite some time. 

But when their needs had been thoroughly satisfied and she thought that Quatre had fallen asleep, she was dismayed to hear his voice as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, intending to retrieve her gown and sandals.

"Stay with me, Dorothy."

There was nothing she wanted to do more, but she couldn't. "I have to get back to James." And she would probably make a fool of herself by admitting how much she still loved him despite everything that had happened.

"How is Sheffield going to feel about this?" demanded Quatre.

She shrugged and slipped on the gown. "He is rather open-minded."

Quatre propped up on an elbow to watch her. "I am not. I don't want to imagine you returning to sleep in his arms."

Dorothy reached under the pillow to grab her purse and the heavy weight of her gun reminded her why she had to return to James. "Save the speech for the one or two, three or four of the women or children you take as your wife or wives."

"Dorothy…"

"Good night, Quatre." Clutching her handbag, she snatched up her sandals from the floor and headed to the door. "You probably have a busy day tomorrow, so I suggest you get some sleep."

"I won't be able to sleep knowing you're going back to him."

She paused at the door and turned to look at him. Quatre was sitting up in bed watching her. Although she hadn't intended to hurt him so, she realized that he was feeling what she had bottled inside for the last four years, knowing that he had made a life with another woman. 

Without replying, she opened the door and pushed through, but once she was in the hall, she leaned against the closed door for a moment to gather her thoughts. Leaving him had been more difficult than she thought it would be, so she realized that in many ways she wasn't any more experienced now than she had been five years ago despite her relationships. She just couldn't be with Quatre without her heart becoming involved. It had been so easy with James that she had convinced herself that she could have gratifying sex with Quatre without the emotional attachment. Dorothy would just have to avoid such encounters in the future. 

Getting her bearings, she headed down the hall, and when she rounded the corner, the men guarding the private wing detained her. Either they didn't understand her explanation of falling asleep with Jamila or they pretended not to understand her language. Either way, she had to put up with their ill-concealed smirks and leers, and when one of them made a remark to the other, Dorothy didn't need to understand their language to know by his comrade's crude laughter that she had been grossly insulted. A low voice growled something to them in Arabic from the shadows, and she watched Rashid step into the light.

The men fell humbly silent although the damage had already been done. Dorothy knew how she must appear to them. By the following morning the gossip grapevine will have spread the news of her visit to Quatre Winner. Perhaps after hearing about her in terms that put their relationship in perspective, he would forget about his foolish notion about their future. Dorothy had not failed to notice that while they were together he hadn't mentioned anything about love or marriage. He would be expected to marry at least one of the young women dangled before him, so Dorothy could never be anything more to him than what she had been tonight, and she had too much self-respect to tolerate the debasement it involved. After everything that had happened to her, she still had some of the pride Duke Dermail and her father had drummed into her. For better or worse, she would always be Dorothy Catalonia, the last of the Romefeller royalty.

Although she did not speak to him, Rashid followed her to the corridor where she was staying, and then he stopped and bowed to her respectfully. She nodded to him and would have continued on her way but he spoke to detain her. 

"Miss Dorothy, I hope you will give Master Quatre a chance to prove himself."

She looked at him. "I won't stand in the way of what he must do to help his people."

"I am less concerned about the people of this colony than I am about his future happiness. He has spent much of his life giving of himself unselfishly. I know that you became involved with him during a particularly selfish time of his life, a time that he deeply regrets. But his feelings for you, they are genuine."

She sighed as she met his dark gaze. "I hope that Quatre appreciates your loyalty, Rashid. You have always been a good friend to him."

"He is like a son to me. And like a father, I hope that his heart will not be broken any more than it already has."

Having nothing more to say, Dorothy turned and headed to her room, stopping to ask the agents guarding Relena's room if they had heard or seen anything unusual. When they mentioned Quatre's visit, Dorothy didn't even think before rapping on the door.

Several moments passed before a bleary-eyed Relena Darlian opened it. "What now?" She was holding together her dressing gown as she tried to focus.

"I would like to speak to Heero Yuy."

Relena blinked several times, and then stared mutely at Dorothy with wide eyes. Dorothy guessed that Relena had learned the truth and didn't know how to speak to her without thinking of what she had gone through. Dorothy was growing uncomfortable with the look that she was giving her when Relena was suddenly grabbed and pulled back into the room. As Heero took her place in the doorway, Dorothy noticed the Preventer guards were desperately trying to hide their smiles.

"Get in here." Heero stepped aside and Dorothy entered the room.

Relena was pacing, clenching her fists at her side, but when Heero closed the door, she whirled around to face Dorothy. "How could you keep something so important from me?"

Dorothy winced. "I wasn't aware that we were bosom pals."

"I was trying to be your friend! You shut me out! I could have given you emotional support."

"I didn't need any emotional support," Dorothy told Relena calmly. "I had everything under control."

Relena opened her mouth to speak but Heero cleared his throat and she quickly closed it.

Hoping to end Relena's tirade, Dorothy turned away from her to speak to Heero. "Weston and Davis told me that Quatre Winner was here tonight."

"Night is quickly turning to day," pointed out Relena. "And I haven't had much sleep at all."

Raising his brow, Heero asked, "And whose fault is that?"

Her face suddenly became dark pink and Relena pressed her lips together.

Dorothy focused her attention on Heero. "I suppose he wanted some corroboration of my story." She resented the fact that Quatre still didn't trust her.

"That would be prudent," said Heero with a shrug.

"Now who is being a prick?" asked Relena. She looked at Dorothy. "Quatre was understandably upset. I suppose he turned to us because we are his friends. _He_ knows what _friends_ are for."

Dorothy might have responded, but Heero said, "I can't really call you a prick, can I?"

"Would you like to sleep in the hall with Weston and Davis?" asked Relena, folding her arms over her chest.

"I might actually get some sleep out there."

Relena was glaring at Heero and Dorothy didn't want to get in the middle of a domestic dispute. "I should get back to James."

"You weren't with James?" asked Relena with a raised brow. "I don't suppose you were with Quatre Winner?"

"I thought we had already established the fact that Dorothy doesn't want to discuss her personal life with you."

Gritting her teeth, Relena walked to the door and opened it. "Good night, Mr. Yuy."

He shrugged as he passed through the door and Relena slammed it before he was even through the threshold. Then she turned back to Dorothy. "I've had some time to think about the reasons that you didn't tell me about Quatre. Although he is an insensitive son of a bitch, Heero seems to understand you better than anyone and he was able to convince me that your trust in me had no bearing in your decision."

Dorothy didn't want to have this conversation with Relena, but she had little choice. "I am sorry, but I have had no experience in close friendships, so I didn't know what I should share with you. I went to Barbados on a whim, and it changed my life. What would I have said to you? 'Oh, I went on vacation to Barbados, got a great tan, and by the way, I lost my virginity and was humiliated by the wealthiest man in the solar system.' I do have some pride, Relena. I certainly didn't want you to pity me."

"I understand." Relena sighed. "I still wish I could have been there for you when you needed someone, then maybe...maybe..." She didn't finish the sentence. For a moment she just stared at Dorothy in that particular way that gave her the uncomfortable feeling that Relena knew more about her than Dorothy knew about herself. 

"I should get back to James."

"Are you sleeping with him?" asked Relena anxiously.

Dorothy was about to tell her that it was none of her business, then decided against it. "I'm wondering what kind of woman you think I am. I've already determined that Quatre's opinion of me couldn't be much lower since he thinks I can traipse from James' bed to his."

"Some of that is my fault," confessed Relena. "I gave him the impression that you and James are on the verge of heading down the aisle together."

"Gave him the impression?" Dorothy raised a brow.

"Don't give me that look! You remind me of Heero Yuy. No wonder the two of you are such good friends. So I told him that you two had picked up where you left off a few years ago and were probably going to get married. I didn't realize how things stood!"

"I think we're back where we started," Dorothy pointed out. "Whatever was between James Sheffield and me is over, has been for almost two years. As for what is between Quatre Winner and I, it can't go anywhere but where it's at. Now, if you have heard enough of my personal history, I would like to get some sleep."

Relena walked her to the door. "If you ever need to talk to someone, to get another perspective, I will be there for you."

Her tone made Dorothy feel uncomfortable again. She considered asking Relena outright what she was hiding, but opted to leave before Relena pried too deeply into her feelings. She might discover how hurt and lonely Dorothy actually felt, and Dorothy felt more comfortable like that than being smothered by Relena's good intentions.

When she stepped into the hall, she saw that Heero was already snoozing, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, so she silently moved past him after sharing a grin with Weston and Davis. The two Preventer agents were probably going to amuse their comrades with stories of their guard duty outside the door of the Vice Foreign Minister Darlian.

Dorothy quietly opened the door to the room she shared with James, and almost instantly her senses became alert that something was wrong. With the light from the door, she thought she saw two figures in the room. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her gun, and the two figures darted in what appeared to be opposite directions. She threw open the door, turned to the shadowy figure to the left that was moving rapidly against the walls. 

"Stop or I'll shoot." Dorothy would rather have shot without the warning, but as a Preventer agent she knew she couldn't use unnecessary force. One figure stopped moving while the other seemed to have disappeared.

"What's going on?" Heero Yuy appeared in the doorway, a gun in his hand.

The light by the bed was flipped on, and James Sheffield sat up. "What...?"

Dorothy's gun was aimed at Hadya Winner whose face went from white with fear to dark red with embarrassment. Suppressing her sound of disgust, Dorothy turned in the opposite direction where she was sure she had seen another figure. Seeing no sign of another person, she realized that she must have mistaken Hadya's shadow for a person. 

"What are you doing here?" Heero demanded of Hadya as Dorothy returned, tucking her gun in her handbag.

Hadya was speechless.

Dorothy glanced past her to James who was wearing a self-satisfied grin. 

Heero grunted with annoyance and tucked the gun in the waistband of his pants. "How did you get in here?" he asked her. "The Preventers didn't see you pass by."

"Maybe they were sleeping," suggested James, which earned him a scathing glare from Heero Yuy.

Hadya finally found her voice. "The palace is riddled with secret passages, all leading from the presidential suite, probably built to allow for an easy escape should the palace ever come under attack."

"Who knows about these passages?" asked Heero.

"Just the immediate family." Hadya was wringing her hands. "Am I in trouble?"

Heero ignored her questions and walked to where Dorothy was standing. "Well?"

"I thought I saw two people, but one must have been a shadow."

"Do you trust her?"

Dorothy looked from him to Hadya. The young woman looked completely mortified, and in her place, Dorothy would probably feel the same. She must have thought that Dorothy was going to stay with Quatre all night so she used the opportunity to act on an impulse. Dorothy certainly understood impulsive behavior, especially with men like James Sheffield. 

"I don't think she's here for any nefarious purposes," Dorothy answered him.

"Maybe she should explain what she was planning to do," remarked James with a knowing smile at Hadya.

The latter's face turned an even darker shade of red.

Heero rolled his eyes, then asked Hadya. "Where is the passage?"

Probably glad for the distraction, she led him to the far wall where the shadow had disappeared earlier. Dorothy watched as Heero disappeared into the passage with Hadya, and then she turned to look at James. "Since when did you behave like such an ass? The poor young woman is embarrassed."

"The _poor young woman_ was sneaking around in my room in the middle of the night when there is rumor of a plan to kill me." He frowned at Dorothy. "I don't need to guess where you were."

"Don't play jealous suitor. I already have one of those." Dorothy tossed aside her handbag just as Heero returned alone, closing the passage behind him. 

"We shouldn't have to worry about that happening again," he remarked with a significant glance toward the ambassador.

Dorothy bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling about the sour look on James' face. He would just have to seduce Hadya Winner the hard way. "Was there any sign of another intruder?"

Heero reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a switchblade that he popped open, startling James into stepping back. "Do you consider this a sign? I didn't frisk this off of Hadya Winner either."

"She may have dropped it," suggested Dorothy although she didn't believe that Hadya Winner was making any attempt on James Sheffield's life. The startled look on James' face was amusing however.

Heero raised a brow, glanced from her to James then back before saying, "I suppose it is a distinct possibility." He sighed. "There won't be any more visits to this room without someone being seriously hurt. I set a booby trap on my way back."

She guessed that it involved plastic explosives but she didn't ask. Dorothy walked him to the door, then stepped into the hall when he nodded in that direction. Once in the hall, he said, "You realize that our assailant could have been Quatre Winner."

She almost laughed at his absurd suggestion. "Quatre isn't a killer. He has no reason..."

"He has reason enough," stated Heero cryptically with a significant glance at her disheveled appearance. 

Dorothy was still thinking about his remark when she re-entered the suite where James had already returned to his bed. Ignoring him, she headed to the bathroom where she removed her gown and climbed into the shower where she let the hot water pound down on her until it quickly became cold and she was rudely reminded of the lack of amenities on L4. She refused to believe that Quatre would come to her room with a switchblade. Did he plan on threatening James? Was he behind the rumored plot to derail negotiations with L3? The idea was laughable.

Pulling on a bathrobe, she returned to the bedroom, found her handbag and gun, as well as a spare blanket and pillow, then settled on the semi-comfortable couch across the room from the bed. She thought that if she ignored James who was sitting up in bed with a file in his hand that he put down when she entered the room, that maybe he wouldn't speak to her.

"I take it from the night's events that telling Quatre Winner the truth didn't turn out to be as shattering as you expected."

Dorothy turned on her side to face away from him. "I'm going to sleep, James."

"It's too bad you came back to the suite so soon," he remarked aloud.

Dorothy sat up to look across the room at him. "If I had been a few moments later, I may have stumbled across a couple of bloody bodies."

"There is that."

She plumped her pillow and laid her head upon it. "I believe that you have a meeting with Majid Al-Jazar tomorrow. I think you should get some sleep. He seems rather crafty."

"Not nearly as crafty as some women," he grumbled.

He shut off the light, and Dorothy stared into the darkness for several moments as she replayed what she had seen when she entered the room. Even if she could remotely consider Quatre a suspect, the shadowy figure had been too short to be him, which was why she had thought it was Hadya's shadow. She would keep her eyes open for anyone who might match that figure. As for now, she needed to get some sleep because she had told Jamila that she would have breakfast with her. 

Quatre stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and after wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped out of the bathroom and stopped short when he saw that his sister, Leila, Ahmed's wife, was lying out clothing on the bed. 

Having heard the door open, she turned around to look at him, her brows drawn together in a frown. "You took a very long shower," she scolded him. "Didn't it get cold?"

Given the pleasant dream he was having about Dorothy Catalonia before he woke up, the shower was neither cold enough or long enough. After she had left, he stewed with such intense jealousy that he almost pursued her to drag her back to his room. He had a memory of having behaved in a similar manner in Barbados, and he was quite sure that Dorothy hadn't appreciated it. She had been adamant about returning to Sheffield, so Quatre would have to find a more conventional method of winning her away from him.

When he didn't answer his sister, she pursed her lips together and Quatre thought that she looked too much like his father in showing her disapproval. 

"What do I have planned today?" he asked. Leila had taken charge of his household and the social agenda, and since she was on his back this early in the morning, he could assume that some event had been planned. 

"A brunch with several prominent families," she told him, turning away and giving him some privacy to change into the clothing she had chosen for him. "You cannot afford to offend them as they were supporters of Hassan Barak, and you know that they must be drawn back into the fold or..."

"I don't need to be reminded of their destructive tendencies." The rich bastards would destroy the colony before giving up their power. Quatre would have to find some way to clip their wings.

"At least two of them have daughters old enough to marry, and I took the liberty of inviting a few other young woman with whom you are already acquainted."

Quatre pulled on the last of his clothing and turned to his sister. "Define 'old enough.'"

She frowned at him. "Old enough to have been offered by their fathers."

"I'm not interested in marrying another girl-woman like Sadirah Barak," he told her.

Leila met his gaze without waver. "Sadirah was an excellent mate. Beautiful, intelligent..."

"Mentally ill," he added. Leila knew the truth about what had happened on Earth except for what Heero had told him last night. 

"Yes, well, if you had given her proper guidance instead of lamenting the loss of a woman you couldn't have, perhaps she would not have been driven to such an extreme."

Quatre found it difficult to listen to anyone defend Sadirah. "I believe she was broken by the time she came into my life."

"You made no attempt to fix her." His sister leveled her condemning gaze at him. "She needed someone other than her greedy father to guide her."

She needed intensive psychological therapy, but pointing that out to Leila was going to be a waste of time. Leila had been delighted when he married Sadirah because she had known her before the OZ occupation. His sister would never admit that Sadirah had been irreversibly damaged during the incarceration with her mother. Quatre imagined that she didn't want to believe the extent to which she had been abused. 

"I had hoped to have breakfast with Jamila," he commented when an uncomfortable silence had fallen upon them. 

"She had breakfast long ago."

Quatre glanced at the clock, and noting the time, he realized that he had risen later than usual. Then again, he had been rather exhausted. "Where is she now? I will say good-morning to her."

"You don't have time. Besides, I believe that she is in the garden, and that might mean anywhere as she loves to hide." Leila smiled. "We all adore Jamila even though she can be a handful."

That was hardly a Winner trait, he thought with his own wry smile. If he had never learned the truth, Quatre wondered if he would have been forever blind to her resemblance to Dorothy Catalonia. Now that he did know, he wondered how no one else could guess who her real mother was. Remembering how sorrowful she had been when she told him about the baby she had never held, Quatre knew there was going to be a very fine line between her joy and fury when Dorothy learned the truth. Heero might be wrong about her reaction, and while Quatre still wanted to tell her the truth now, they were all better off if he waited until Dorothy understood how important she was to him and the place he wanted for her in his life.

The brunch was unpleasant from start to finish. The men viewed him with distrust while the young women, of whom there were more than his sister had hinted, made shy, painful attempts to attract his attention. Fortunately Ahmed attended the brunch so Quatre had at least one ally in the room, but that benefit was almost upset by his sister who made sure he didn't have a moment when he wasn't confronted with either an immature teenage girl or an obviously calculating young woman. Not one of them lacked in beauty, but Quatre could only think of one woman as his wife and he would not let anything stand in the way of having her.

Finally Quatre managed to slip out onto the balcony to light a cigar, and as he smoked in blessed solitude, he heard faint voices that he recognized. Peering down across the garden, he noticed Jamila sitting with Dorothy who held several dolls on her lap. Hadya was not with them although Rashid stood several feet away watching with a faint smile as Jamila continued to introduce her dolls to Dorothy. Sadirah would have lost patience after the second doll, but Dorothy properly acknowledged each introduction as if they were at a formal social gathering.

Quatre glanced back into the salon to see that Leila was distracted, so he turned his attention to the problem of getting from there to where he wanted to be. The balcony was high enough that he would probably break his neck if he tried to go over the side. However, there was a rather stout tree branch nearby, so he tossed aside his cigar, hopped up on the balcony railing and leaped out and barely managed to grab the branch. The noise had alerted both Rashid and Dorothy, and while Rashid tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile, Dorothy was still frowning when he dropped from the tree a few feet away.

Jamila quickly turned around and she giggled when she realized where he had come from. Setting aside her doll, she dashed to him and he swung her up to kiss her cheeks. "Papa, are you climbing in the trees like a monkey?"

"More like a jackass," mumbled Dorothy.

Jamila looked at him. "What is a jackass?"

Quatre chuckled. "Apparently Miss Dorothy believes that I am one."

"A very foolish person," Dorothy answered her question. "Which your father is."

"I'm afraid Miss Dorothy is right," Quatre told his daughter. "What I did was quite dangerous, but I had to see you." He kissed Jamila again, but he looked at Dorothy over Jamila's head. "You have been entertaining Jamila?"

"I have been entertaining Miss Dorothy," Jamila corrected him. "We are going to have tea with my dolls later."

"I'm glad you are having fun."

Rashid stepped forward and cleared his throat. "I will take you back to your room, Missy Jamila."

Although she clearly didn't want to leave, Jamila didn't argue when Quatre set her back on the ground and she went to take Rashid's hand. Quatre watched them go before turning back to Dorothy and saw that her eyes were on him. Her speculative look was anything but arousing.

"What is on your mind?" he asked with a frown.

"I wondered how deeply patriotic you are to this colony."

"I will do what I must to rebuild the homes and lives of my people."

She raised a brow. "Are you aware of a plot to assassinate James Sheffield?" 

"Are you asking if I have given my approval of such a plot, if it existed?" Quatre wasn't sure how he felt about her line of questioning. The last time she had done so she had been working for the Preventers. Given the fact that she had arrived with James Sheffield, she could very well be working for government of L3.

"No." She met his gaze. "I know that you would not. My question stands. Are you aware of a plot?"

"There was such a plot presented to me shortly before your arrival. However, I believe that I have thoroughly convinced all the parties involved that it would not be in the best interests of the colony to pursue a war with L3 simply because we are angry for their interference in our internal struggle." Quatre wasn't going to tell her that Majid Al-Jazar had been a key conspirator. After Quatre's refusal to give his consent to carry out the plan, Majid had threatened to carry it out on his own until Quatre informed him in terms that would probably shock even Dorothy Catalonia what would become of the Al-Jazar clan should he even make an attempt. Quatre had put his faith in the idealistic brother of the former president, and after negotiations today, he would see if that faith were justified.

Dorothy was frowning. "You are sure the plot has collapsed?"

"Absolutely." Majid knew that Quatre would carry out his threat if he did not obey.

After a moment of silent contemplation, she told him, "There was an intruder armed with a knife in our room last night."

"You were not harmed?" He took a step toward her, anxious to be certain she hadn't been attacked.

She smiled faintly. "You did not ask about James Sheffield."

Quatre would rather say he didn't care what became of the ambassador, but he said, "I would have heard by now if he had been assaulted." He reached out to touch her cheek and was encouraged when she didn't flinch away from him. "I'm more concerned about you, Dorothy." He slid his fingers into her hair and gently tugged her to him, raising her face to his. "I can't stop thinking about you."

She moved so that their bodies were touching. "Maybe you should choose a bride so that she can distract you."

He lowered his head so that his lips were just above hers. "You don't want that, Dorothy."

"No," she admitted, "But I am realistic."

"I thought you were a dreamer." When tears made her eyes glisten, he regretted the words he had chosen. Drawing her into his arms, he held her close as she struggled to regain her composure. There was nothing he could do to drive away the years of pain she had suffered alone without sharing her loss with anyone. He should have been there for her instead of allowing Hassan Barak to manipulate him. 

Putting his hand under her chin, he raised her face to his. "Will you give me a chance to make you happy, Dorothy?"

She wasn't able to respond because a giggle interrupted what she might have said. They both turned to see Jamila standing with Hadya. "I forgot my dolls," she explained, her bright blue eyes twinkling with happiness going from him to Dorothy and back again.

"I must go," Dorothy said, her voice shaky. "I am having lunch with James." She moved away from Quatre, then stopped before Jamila. "I shall join you for tea at precisely four o'clock."

Jamila nodded. "I shall see you then." She watched Dorothy until she had disappeared into the building, then she hurried to Quatre. "Papa, are you going to make Miss Dorothy my mother?"

"Jamila!" Hadya's scolding was rather half-hearted.

Quatre was unsure how to answer her question when he couldn't predict what Dorothy might do. "I would like nothing better," he finally said and left it at that. 

Jamila seemed ready to burst with happiness. "I would like nothing better either." 

As she gathered her dolls together, Hadya came to stand by Quatre, but she didn't speak until Jamila had gone back inside with her collection. "You should not give Jamila false hope."

Quatre was about to inform Hadya of his intention of marrying Dorothy when a voice from above echoed her sentiment. 

"Do not commit yourself where you do not have a right." Leila was standing on the balcony overlooking the garden. 

"I have a right to decide with whom I will share my life," Quatre argued.

Leila disappeared from the balcony and he had little doubt that his sister was going to join him in the garden. Hadya shook her head as she sighed. "Our sister is angry now."

Quatre looked at her. "How well do you know Leila?"

"Only well enough to tell you that she is the most like our father. He seemed quite proud of her."

Hearing that was enough to convince Quatre that he was going to have difficulty in getting Leila to understand his feelings. He knew that he was right when she came out into the garden wearing a deep, disapproving frown.

"I hope that your stunt hasn't insulted anyone today. When I realized where you had gone, I explained that you hadn't seen your daughter today and wished to spend some time with her." Leila put her hands on her hips. "You seem to have little preference among the women..."

"I intend to marry Dorothy Catalonia."

Leila ignored him. "So Ahmed and I have chosen one of the young women."

"Without consulting me?" Quatre looked to Hadya for support, but she looked away. He suspected that she already knew of the plan.

"She has agreed to the arrangement, and negotiations with L3 will hinge upon the union."

"What do you mean by that?" Quatre felt the steel jaws of a trap closing on him.

"You will marry Yaminah Al-Jazar."

"I am not going to marry that child!" 

"If you do not, the deal with L3 will fall through," stated Leila. "Because of your objection to her age, we have agreed to send your wife to attend a university on L3. When she has finished her education, she will be old enough to begin her married life with you."

"You would use my wife as a hostage?" Although Quatre didn't want to marry the girl, neither did he want to see her used as a political pawn. 

"Hostage is a harsh word," spoke up Hadya. "Yaminah wishes to attend the university on L3, and if she were there, the government of that colony could consider her as their insurance that their colony would not be attacked."

"They do not want war with us and we do not want war with them," said Leila. "This is a way for both colonies to save face and go ahead with normal relations."

Quatre shook his head. "I do not want to marry Yaminah Al-Jazar. I want to marry Dorothy Catalonia."

"You cannot," Leila told him forcefully. "For once in your life do what is best for someone other than yourself! Your selfish rebellion brought OZ to our colony, and now you are whining like the spoiled brat that you are because you can't have the daughter of an OZ general? Do you think that our people will accept her? She will have to spend her life with you guarding her back, and even if you surround her with an army of bodyguards, someday, somebody with a grudge is going to sneak past all your security. How will you feel then? Marriage to Yaminah is the answer to all our problems."

Quatre refused to admit that she was right although Leila's argument had no flaw. "There must be another way."

"We will meet you in your office at four o'clock," she told him. "You will sign both the marriage contracts and the treaty with L3." Without waiting to hear any further argument, she turned and headed back into the palace.

"I'm sorry," Hadya said gently as she put her hand on his arm. 

"I will find a way to make this work," he insisted.

"I wish I could help you."

An idea began to form in his mind as he turned his full attention to his sister. "Do you really mean that, Hadya?"

"Of course I do! You are my brother, and I would like to see you happy, especially after what you have been through. I know that you thought you were doing what was best for the colony by piloting that gundam. OZ would have come to our colony regardless of your actions, and I have come to realize that Dorothy Catalonia bears little resemblance to her bloodthirsty forebears."

Quatre was glad that she didn't know Dorothy several years ago. "I have made mistakes and so has she. I am hoping that we won't have to spend the rest of our lives trying to atone for them." He put his hands on Hadya's shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I have a plan and it involves a great sacrifice on your part."


	20. Chapter 20

****

Chapter 20

Dorothy was putting the finishing touches on her makeup when she heard the door to the suite open and close. Reaching for her handbag, she was about to pull out her gun when she heard the telephone ring and James' voice answering. 

"Are you sure? Well, we didn't expect him to accept immediately. When the plan is on the table and the pen is in his hand, he'll do what he must." 

After returning her makeup to a case, Dorothy left the bathroom and saw James hanging up the phone. "What was that about?"

"Majid Al-Jazar and I have come up with an acceptable agreement to ensure that there will be no war between our colonies. While I thought it rather barbaric, these people do have different customs from our own." 

"What is this rather barbaric plan?" From the brief telephone conversation she had overheard, Dorothy concluded that Quatre had already learned of the plan and did not approve.

James looked away from her, so she knew she wouldn't like what she was going to hear. "Quatre Winner will marry Yaminah Al-Jazar and his wife will spend the next few years on L3 attending a university. In addition to ensuring her safety while she is on the colony, my government will fund rebuilding efforts on L4 in exchange for future favorable trade agreements."

"The wife of the president will be a hostage?" Dorothy couldn't believe such a plan was even considered.

James shrugged as he looked at her. "I think we both know why the agreement might be attractive to Quatre Winner. He objects to her youth, and when she finishes her education and returns to L4 she will be an attractive young woman. While she is gone, he is free to do as he pleases." 

Dorothy was glad that James didn't embarrass her by pointing out what it meant for her. She had wanted to avoid the kind of life that was being laid out for her, but a part of her was glad that she would have the opportunity to be with Quatre. 

"I know this puts you in a difficult position, Dorothy." She knew that James sensed her dilemma. 

"He will belong to another woman," she remarked aloud. Only in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she could ever be the wife of Quatre Winner. Even if she stayed on L4 to be with him while his wife was away, she would one day have to leave. 

James reached out to take her hand. "Whatever you decide to do, I will always be there for you. But I think you should follow your heart."

She managed to smile at him despite the turmoil she felt inside. "I did that once before James, and it didn't turn out well for anyone."

"You hardly had any control over that," he remarked.

For a long time she hadn't had control over any aspect of her life. First her parents, then her grandfather manipulated her, and when she didn't have them, she had behaved irrationally, first by becoming involved with the White Fang, then when she was drifting aimlessly, Quatre Winner stepped into her life. If she hadn't gone to Barbados, she wouldn't be contemplating ruining what was left of her respectability.

"You look quite lovely," James commented as he raised her hand to his lips before releasing it. "I'm looking forward to having lunch with you. Give me a few minutes to get ready." 

He was headed to the bathroom when the phone rang again, so he made a detour and picked it up. "Yes, this is." For a moment he didn't say anything as he listened, then he responded, "Yes, Mr. Winner, I have been informed of your objections..." James frowned as he glanced at Dorothy. "I was planning to have lunch...Yes, I understand. I will be at your office in fifteen minutes." He hung up the phone and looked apologetically at Dorothy. "Our plans have changed. Quatre Winner demands my presence in his office in fifteen minutes."

The change in plans would give Dorothy time to think through her options without having to make idle conversation with James, so she wasn't disappointed to have their lunch date canceled. When she would have escorted him to the president's office, he refused to allow it, pointing out that he didn't believe there was any danger. Dorothy thought of the shadowy would-be assassin and wondered if he was making a mistake, but she had to respect his wishes. She could, however, follow him at a distance far away enough so that he wouldn't knew she was there, yet close enough to help if he were attacked.

But the way to the president's office was uneventful, so she stopped and turned to go back to her own room, when a door nearby opened and she didn't even get a chance to turn her head when a hand was clamped over her mouth and she was dragged inside. She reached for her gun and had it in her hand, but before she could draw it, a very sharp blade was pressed against her throat.

The door through which she had been dragged was kicked open and she was relieved to see Rashid holding a gun, and yet the blade against her throat tightened so that if she even breathed she would be cutting herself on the edge.

"Put your gun away," ordered a voice from across the room. 

Dorothy shifted her gaze to see a woman standing by the window, watching the scene with her arms crossed, her brows raised. Dorothy had not met her, but she recognized her from the file she had studied about the current situation on L3. Looking back to Rashid, Dorothy saw that he was wearing a look of confusion.

"Miss Leila, what are you planning to do?" he asked, still holding the gun on the man holding Dorothy's life on the edge of his knife.

Leila nodded to the man who released Dorothy. "I believe that I have proven my point. You may go, Husam."

Rashid tucked his gun away after the assailant left without a backward glance although he was watching Leila Winner with distrust.

"We have not been formally introduced." Leila came forward and extended her hand, but Dorothy did not take it. "My husband is on my brother's council, and I know how well acquainted you are with my brother."

Dorothy deduced that she was Ahmed's wife. "Did you send someone to kill James Sheffield?"

Leila smiled. "No, I did not send anyone. I went to his room myself, but not to kill James Sheffield."

"You were trying to kill me?" Dorothy was amazed that the woman was brazen enough to admit it.

"I don't need to kill you to accomplish what I must. I simply meant to frighten someone."

"You would have to do more than that to frighten Miss Dorothy," remarked Rashid.

Leila glanced at him. "I didn't think I could frighten a woman like her. No, I meant to put some fear in my brother. His obsession with this woman is going to ruin him and this colony. I told him that she could never be safe here, and now I have proven it."

"This is a game to you?" asked Dorothy incredulously. "I could have shot Husam..."

"He didn't give you a chance to draw your weapon." She looked at Rashid. "I guessed that my brother would send you to watch over her after I pointed out how impractical it would be to keep her here. And yet you couldn't have gotten here in time to save her life. If Husam had been paid to kill her, or if he had been a fanatic out for revenge, you would have charged in her to find her with her throat cut gasping for her last breaths. I suggest that you report to my brother just exactly how easy it would have been to end her life."

Rashid looked at Dorothy. "I am sorry, Miss Dorothy."

"I wasn't hurt," she told him. 

"You may leave us," Leila ordered Rashid.

Although he was reluctant to go, Rashid bowed and left the room. When he had gone, Dorothy looked at Quatre's sister. "I don't know why you felt these stunts were necessary."

"I don't want my brother to be hurt," she explained, her face softening. "I know how he feels about you, and I know he would be crushed if something happened to you. I have also noted the special bond that you have formed with Jamila, and I don't know how my niece could survive should another mother that she loves dearly meets a terrible end. Quatre needs to realize that for everyone concerned, it would be best if he let you go."

Despite her anger over what Leila had done, Dorothy was touched by her concern for Quatre and Jamila. "I'm sure that he will come to his senses now." Dorothy wasn't afraid for her own life, but if something were to happen to either Quatre or Jamila because of an attack on her, she couldn't live with it. 

"I knew that you would understand how it must be." 

There was nothing more to say, so Dorothy turned and left the room, but she was in turmoil deep down inside. That part of her that wanted to stay on L4 with Quatre was crushed by the realization that it could not work, and Dorothy knew that Leila was right. Despite the years that had passed since the occupation by OZ, there were still many on the colony like Hassan Barak and his daughter who had reason to want to see her dead. 

Glancing at her watch, she saw that she had a couple of hours to wait for her tea party with Jamila, and since she was hungry, she decided to visit Relena to see if she could join her for lunch. Weston and Davis were relaxed at their post, but they straightened when they noticed her approaching.

"Is Heero Yuy inside?" she asked. If he were, she would probably go back to her room and call the kitchen to send a light meal to her. She certainly didn't want to interrupt anything.

"He hasn't returned yet," Weston told her.

"Where is he?" she asked, realizing that she hadn't spoken to Heero that morning at all.

"He is investigating the break-in in the ambassador's room last night," answered Davis. 

Knowing Heero, he wouldn't rest until he discovered exactly what had happened, and if he weren't able to, she would tell him when he returned. "Is the Vice Foreign Minister in?" Relena could have been called to the same impromptu meeting that James had.

Weston nodded. "I believe that she is waiting to have lunch."

As long as Heero hadn't returned, Dorothy would have a chance to talk to Relena, and since she had already been thoroughly scolded for trying to cut her out of her personal life, this was the perfect opportunity to try to patch up their friendship. Besides, Relena might be able to give her an unbiased opinion because she could look at Dorothy's dilemma from another perspective.

Neither agent balked at opening the door when she requested it, and when Dorothy stepped in, she immediately regretted it because a small table placed by the window was set with a meal that had already arrived. A bouquet of red roses were on the table, and crossing the room, Dorothy saw that the card had already been opened and that the romantic lunch was a peace offering from Heero. Looking over the table, she noted the champagne chilling on ice, and lifting a cover she smothered a laugh when she saw the oysters on the half shell. He must have paid a fortune to have this kind of meal delivered to the room, especially with the deprivation on the colony.

"Are you back, Heero?" Relena was pacing in another room and she hadn't noticed that she was speaking to Dorothy. "I am waiting for an important call from the president of the Earth Sphere United Nation, and this is the only time the communication system has enough power to function."

Dorothy was about to alert her to her presence, but Relena continued talking as she paced out of view. 

"I cannot believe the mess this trip has become! When I suggested that Dorothy be assigned to James Sheffield, I had something far different in mind! I just want to scream when I think about all of Dorothy's secrets. Why couldn't she just confide in me?"

At least Relena was going to be happy to have Dorothy confide in her about her present predicament. 

"The president is going to chew off my head for this ridiculous arrangement between L3 and L4. I can't believe Sheffield agreed to it, but I guess he has had more experience in dealing with the culture on this colony. Do you really think Quatre is going to marry that child? What can he be thinking?"

Dorothy knew that Quatre had little choice in what he could do. She remembered his words to her not long ago in the garden when she questioned him about the plot. _"I will do what I must to rebuild the homes and lives of my people." _If that meant marrying Yaminah Al-Jazar and sending her to live on L3 as a hostage, then he would do it.

"What place does that leave for Dorothy Catalonia in his life? What kind of woman does he think she is? She is not a mindless concubine!"

Remembering how she had behaved the night before in Quatre's bed, she was glad that Relena didn't know exactly how mindless she could be with Quatre Winner. Yet if Relena could imagine such a thing, then Dorothy was right to be concerned about the complete loss of her reputation. The people of his colony would hardly have a favorable opinion of her if she chose to stay as his paramour.

Confiding in Relena was easier than Dorothy had imagined. She didn't have to say a word.

"How in the world is he going to tell her about Jamila now? You have no idea how difficult it was last night not telling her the truth. I don't think I can look her in the eye again."

Dorothy felt uneasy hearing about Jamila in the exasperated tone that Relena was using. She was going to ask her what she was talking about when her friend continued.

"When I think about what those vile people, the Huffmanns, and the despicable excuse for a doctor did to Dorothy, I just want to find someone to punish! I can't imagine how Dorothy is going to react when she finds out that Jamila is her child!"

The heart seemed to stop beating in Dorothy's chest and she found it impossible to draw a breath until the room started to spin around her and if she hadn't seized the edge of the table, she might have collapsed. Relena had lost her mind! What she had said could not be true!

"How much did Sadirah Barak pay those jackals for the child? I suppose money was no object to her when she was banking on marrying Quatre Winner!"

It was true! Dorothy didn't want to believe it, but what Relena was saying made sense! Dorothy realized that Heero must have discovered more than just the secret Dorothy was keeping when he had gone to Switzerland, and yet he did not tell her! And Relena had berated her for not confiding in her when all the while she was hiding something that important from her!

Having received her connection to Earth, Relena began discussing the terms of the peace treaty between L3 and L4 over the phone. Desperately struggling for her composure, Dorothy managed to leave the room without confronting Relena and shaking her by the shoulders until her teeth rattled. 

Weston and Davis looked at her curiously, and Dorothy forced a smile to her lips although her insides were churning violently and her head was aching. "She was on the phone with the president. I'll talk to her later." She looked from one man to the other. "Between you and me, I think they have a private party planned, so don't spoil it by telling them I was here. What I had to tell them was unimportant." She needed time to herself and she knew that Heero would seek her out if he knew she had stopped by.

When they grinned and nodded, and Dorothy was reasonably assured that they do as she asked, she walked calmly to her room. But once she was inside, she leaned back against the closed door and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes to stop the tears that threatened to overtake her. She felt betrayed by the only people she knew as friends, and worse, Quatre had known! Heero must have told him, and yet Quatre could be intimate with her and still not say a word! He stood in the garden only an hour ago, looking at her as he held their child and knowing the truth, and yet he had said nothing!

Sick to her stomach, her head still spinning, she stumbled to the bathroom and vomited until there was nothing left in her stomach, and then she hung over the toilet, heaving, desperately trying not to sob over the pathetic wreck her life had become. Her thoughts spun out of control as she tried to latch onto a logical reason for Quatre not to tell her the truth after the emotional confession she had told him, and she settled on the only one that made sense. She wasn't good enough for him, not to love, not to marry and certainly not good enough to raise his child! The only thing she was good enough for was a hot time between the sheets.

Furious and hurt, her first instinct was to confront the bastard, then take Jamila back to Earth with her. After the hell she had been put through the first years of her life under the thumb of Sadirah Barak, Jamila deserved better than a father who would marry a girl that he had no qualms about sending to a potential hostile enemy as a hostage for peace. But no matter how justified Dorothy felt in doing so, Dorothy realized how upsetting it would be to Jamila to be uprooted despite their close friendship. Dorothy guessed that Jamila didn't know the truth because the little girl wouldn't be able to keep such a secret. Her heart ached to imagine how Jamila would react to learning that her identity as she knew it was a lie. Deep down inside, Dorothy was afraid that Jamila would blame her for her suffering, and she couldn't bear to lose the trust she had established with her. 

There was nothing Dorothy could do but leave, to get out of their lives. She wouldn't stay on L4 to be Quatre's lover while his wife was on L3, and she couldn't bear to stand by watching as another woman raised her daughter. Dorothy had to give Jamila a chance for a normal future free of the scandal that Dorothy would bring to her life.

Checking on any shuttle flights leaving the colony, she was fortunate to discover that a cargo shuttle was headed to L2 and leaving at four o'clock. Dorothy was torn between seeing Jamila one last time and getting away, and finding that no other shuttle was schedule to leave for another three days, her mind was made up for her. She couldn't live with the knowledge that those closest to her were betraying her. Using her credentials as a Preventer agent, she secured passage, and noting that she had less than thirty minutes to reach the shuttle port, she took nothing with her but her handbag. She glanced briefly at Weston and Davis when she passed them, and both men winked and smiled at her so she knew that Heero Yuy would be occupied for some time. 

The palace attendant called a car for her when she claimed that she had business in the city, and during the ride to the shuttle port, Dorothy almost expected her car to be stopped, but she reached the port without incident and obtained a boarding pass after presenting her identification. 

She didn't know what she would do or where she would eventually go, but she knew she couldn't go back to L4. And now that Quatre had taken on the responsibility of his colony, she wouldn't have to worry that he would follow her. Dorothy couldn't stay and face Quatre Winner without completely breaking down, and she certainly didn't want to cause any upheaval in Jamila's life. 

As the shuttle blasted off, Dorothy wiped away her tears as she imagined how hurt Jamila would be when she didn't show up for tea.

Quatre paced anxiously as he waited for James Sheffield to reach his office. Leila and Ahmed had already arrived and both watched him in silent question, but neither dared to question the reason for his summons. Hadya sat on a bench by the window also nervously waiting for James Sheffield. Quatre regretted using his sister in his scheme, especially when Hadya wasn't sure how Sheffield would react. Quatre didn't know anything about the man except that he was an excellent diplomat. If Quatre's plan didn't work, then he was out of ideas.

A knock at the door stopped his pacing, but when it opened and the secretary announced Majid and Yaminah Al-Jazar, Quatre gritted his teeth in frustration. Yaminah couldn't even look at him as she blushed deeply and stuttered a greeting. Quatre's rushed reply made her giggle like a silly girl, and he noted Hadya rolling her eyes. Quatre wasn't amused. 

The secretary had barely closed the door when he was opening it again and announcing the arrival of James Sheffield.

"Finally," muttered Hadya as she rose from her place by the window.

"This is a joyous day," remarked Majid as he went forward to shake Sheffield's hand. Quatre thought it bizarre that only a few days ago Majid was planning to gut the representative from L3 with a scimitar. "We will be signing a favorable treaty with your colony and putting this ugly business behind us all." He turned to Quatre. "You cannot know how proud I am this day."

Quatre noticed that Sheffield had already noted with interest the presence of his sister. At least his instincts about them had been good. Hadya confessed that she had been seeing Sheffield while living on L3 and thought they were becoming serious until the sudden reprisal of his relationship with Dorothy Catalonia during her absence. A quick investigation of his own turned up the fact that since becoming involved with Hadya, Sheffield had stayed close to L3. Quatre knew the reason. He had gone through the same transformation five years ago because of one woman.

Majid went to Quatre's desk and rolled out the ceremonial copies of the treaty, then laid a thick document on the desk that Quatre guessed was the marriage contract. Once he signed the contract, Yaminah would be his wife without any exchange of vows. 

Sighing, Quatre picked up the document and began to page through it, barely looking at the words.

"*It is all in order," stated Leila. 

He looked from her to Ahmed. "You considered my interests in this contract?"

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. It was customary on L4 for the bride's father to provide a dowry. Mahmad Al-Jazar was dead, leaving his daughter with nothing from the enormous amount of bribes he had taken. Yaminah had no dowry. 

Majid cleared his throat. "A technicality that we thought you might overlook under the circumstances, considering the hardship she will be suffering."

"What hardship?" Quatre looked from him, to the blushing Yaminah, then to Sheffield. "Is she to be imprisoned while attending the university?"

Sheffield was obviously affronted. "Of course not! I have already arranged for her admission to the finest university on the colony, and she will have every comfort available to her."

Disgusted, Quatre tossed the contract on the desk, and ignoring everyone, he seized Yaminah's arm and led her across the room as far as he could away from his family.

"Is this arrangement acceptable to you?" he demanded, seizing her chin and forcing her to look at him.

She didn't struggle, and she lowered her eyes subserviently. "I have wanted to attend the university."

"And what will you study?"

"I wish to become a physician."

Quatre raised a brow. "And how did you plan to practice when you return to this colony and begin your life as my wife?"

Yaminah seemed confused by his question as she met his gaze with wide eyes.

"As my wife," he explained, "You will run my household, oversee my daughter's care, and spend most of your spare time working with charitable organizations. If I should travel, you will go with me, and you will remain at my side, your sole function to look pretty and speak intelligently. There will barely be enough time for your duties as the wife of the president let alone devote a reasonable amount of time to Jamila, and certainly no time for you to have the career you seem to want."

Yaminah stared at him incredulously.

Quatre didn't enjoy cruelly bursting her idealistic bubble, but she didn't seem to understand what she was getting into. "I don't love you, Yaminah, and I never will. There will be no children from our marriage. I love another woman, and if she will have me, I intend to spend my private moments with her. You will be my wife in name only."

Tears made her eyes glisten. "My uncle has already told me of this other woman. He said that once I return from L3, you would not shame me by continuing your liaison with her."

"Your uncle doesn't understand the depth of my feelings for her. Don't harbor any false hope in your heart, because I am in love with her and have been for a long time." Knowing that she wouldn't and couldn't refuse the match, Quatre returned to the desk, placed his hand on the contract and looked at Majid.

"I hope you will not be offended when I respectfully decline the offer of your niece in marriage."

Majid was speechless.

"Have you lost your mind?" demanded Leila angrily. "The agreement with L3 calls for your marriage to Yaminah Al-Jazar."

"She is right," pointed out Ahmed in a much calmer tone than his wife had used. "The treaty cannot proceed without taking this first step."

Quatre ignored them and looked at James Sheffield who was contemplating him with what appeared to be admiration. "While my family seems to have no moral problem with sending my bride to live with a potential enemy, I cannot be so callous. In addition, I have no desire to marry Yaminah Al-Jazar, and in my opinion, arranged marriages are a thing of the past."

"I understand and agree completely." 

Quatre pulled open the drawer of his desk, and taking a hastily drawn up contract, he handed it to Sheffield. "As the head of my family, I am making an offer to you." He held out his hand and Hadya came to him. "My sister Hadya is well-educated, intelligent, beautiful and willing to enter into marriage with you."

"You have lost you mind," muttered Leila. She turned to her husband. "Talk some sense into him!"

Ahmed chuckled. "I don't think he needs my counsel at the moment."

Quatre was glad that Ahmed seemed to be on his side. Majid hadn't reacted yet, so Quatre couldn't guess how he was feeling.

Sheffield looked at the contract as if he were studying it, but the smile on his lips and the corresponding frown Hadya was giving him told Quatre that he was toying with her. Leila was whispering to Ahmed, Majid stood with his arm around his rejected niece and Sheffield seemed to be reading and re-reading the wording with excruciating thoroughness.

Finally, he looked at Quatre. "You considered my interests in this contract?"

Realizing that he was throwing his own words back at him, Quatre smiled, then said, "You will note your compensation on page eight."

Sheffield flipped to the page and Quatre saw his eyes widen. "This is a considerable sum."

"You are going to earn every penny," Hadya told him with a toss of her dark hair.

He raised a brow. "And if I don't?"

Hadya raised her chin. "The consequences of breaking the contract are on page ten, third paragraph."

He turned the pages, read the wording, and Quatre noticed the paling of his cheeks as he flinched. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Is that legal?"

"On this colony it is," Quatre said with a straight face. He doubted Hadya would exercise that clause, nor would she ever admit that it was not legal.

Reaching into his suit coat, Sheffield pulled out a pen. "This isn't quite what I envisioned for us, Hadya."

"I got tired of waiting for you to propose. Besides, that is how it is done here. Once you sign the contract, you belong to me."

Sheffield glanced at Quatre. "I thought it was the other way around."

"Once you sign, I have bought you for my sister," Quatre said with a chuckle. 

"And paid far more than you are worth," she added.

"I'll have to prove you wrong." Moving to the desk, he placed the contract on it and signed his name. "I'm not sure how my government will perceive this in exchange for the original bargain."

"Yaminah Al-Jazar will still attend the university," Quatre said, "but not as my wife." He turned and his gaze swept over the assembled men and women. "I intend to leave L4 indefinitely once I am convinced of its stability."

As expected, his council demanded an immediate explanation, speaking at once. Sheffield didn't seem surprised, and since Hadya already knew his plan, she stood back with a pleased smile. 

"I never wanted to be in this position," he told them when they finally quieted down. "Ignoring personal matters that needed resolving, I returned to L4 to help my people. But if remaining on this colony in a leadership role means that I have to give up the woman I love, then I would rather exile myself from the colony for which I was willing to give my life."

"Ridiculous!" snorted Leila. 

But her husband reached out to take his hand. "I have always admired your zeal, Master Quatre, and I hope that you will be very happy with her."

Majid also took his hand and shook it vigorously, and Quatre did not detect any hard feelings on his part that he would not be marrying his niece. "Your contribution has meant much to this colony. I don't think the people would have trusted anybody else to lead them through the difficulties of this last year."

"As soon as the government on L3 agrees to the new treaty, I intend to announce elections." Quatre looked directly at Majid. "I hope that you will consider running for president because I trust you to pursue the goals that your brother claimed to espouse. In you I see the promise of a new future for this colony."

"You're making a mistake!" Leila exclaimed furiously. "You were meant to take our father's place, not to chase after that Romefeller harlot!"

Ahmed roughly seized her arm and shook her. "You will apologize to your brother! You have no right to speak to him like that!"

Leila glared at her husband, and the look he returned told Quatre that his sister was going to be severely disciplined unless he intervened. "Please forgive my sister. She believes that she knows what is best for me, and what I have just announced is quite a shock to her."

Although he seemed reluctant, Ahmed released her, and after one last, angry glare at Quatre, she turned on her heel and marched from the room. 

"She was close to Sadirah," pointed out Hadya. "I think Leila blames Dorothy Catalonia for her death."

Quatre gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. It took all his willpower not to follow his sister and force her to hear the truth of every vile act that Sadirah had committed. But he couldn't tell anyone before he told Dorothy, and now that he had released himself from his responsibilities on L4, he would do just that. 

Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was almost five, so he guessed that Dorothy was still having tea with Jamila. He politely excused himself from the discussion, which was taking place between Sheffield and Majid as they re-worked the terms of the new agreement. He wasn't sure how he would tell Dorothy the truth, but she had a right to know and he had to trust that she would do what was best for them all. Quatre knew in his heart that she loved him, so there was no reason for her to object to marriage. Jamila needed her mother as much as Quatre needed Dorothy in his life.

He went first to the salon in the private wing where he found a tea service set up and dolls set around the table, but neither Dorothy nor Jamila were there enjoying the tea and cakes provided. Quatre noticed that nothing seemed to have been touched. Puzzled, he went to Jamila's room, and at first he didn't notice her, but a movement in the corner of her room accompanied by a sniffle drew his attention. Jamila was sitting on the floor in the corner, her knees drawn up and her arms hugging them as she buried her face in her arms to muffle her sobs.

"Jamila!" He quickly crossed the room and pulled her up in his arms, and sitting on the bed, he held her close as she burst into tears. 

"Miss Dorothy doesn't like me anymore!" she cried as she clutched the lapels of his jacket. 

"That isn't true," he denied gently. Pulling out a handkerchief, he wiped away her hot tears as fast as they dribbled over her long, spiky lashes. "Why would you believe such a thing?"

"Miss Dorothy didn't come to tea! I waited and waited, and she didn't come to see me."

Quatre could not believe that Dorothy would forget Jamila's invitation or would she blatantly neglect to attend. "An emergency must have come up," said Quatre to explain her absence to Jamila.

Jamila looked at him with wide eyes. "You don't think Miss Dorothy has gotten hurt?"

Remembering his sister's warning and the attempted assault in James Sheffield's room, Quatre tried to remain calm in the face of his daughter's distress when he was becoming increasingly anxious about Dorothy's safety. 

"Don't you worry about Miss Dorothy. I'm sure that she will come by later and tell you why she wasn't able to attend your tea party." 

Jamila seemed to be relieved. "I wanted to show her that I practiced pouring tea and I can do it without spilling!"

Quatre smiled at her and chucked her under the chin. "You are becoming quite a big girl."

"Perhaps you can come to tea with us tomorrow," suggested Jamila.

"I will do that." Quatre lifted her from his lap and laid her back on her bed. "Why don't you take a nap, and when you wake up, Miss Dorothy might be here begging your forgiveness."

Jamila smiled as she closed her eyes. "I won't be angry with her."

Quatre waited a few moments, watching his daughter snuggle into her pillow, and when he was sure that she was resting, he quietly left the room. He went to his own room, and picking up his phone, he called Dorothy's room first, and getting no answer, he dialed Rashid's cell phone, but he wasn't surprised that he didn't get through. The signal towers functioned sporadically, so if Rashid had tried to reach him, he may not have been able. He paced his room for a few minutes, and when he could no longer take the scenarios his mind had conjured to explain her absence, he left the room and was followed to the wing where the guests were housed by his own guards. The Preventer agents watched him curiously as he moved past to knock on the door to Sheffield's room.

The door opened and he was disappointed to be facing his sister. 

"Is she here?" he asked Hadya.

She stepped aside and Quatre entered. "I haven't seen her." He could hear Sheffield speaking on a telephone in another room, so he had to wait until he finished his conversation before he could question him.

"She missed her tea party with Jamila," he told his sister.

Hadya seemed surprised. "That doesn't sound like her. She adores Jamila."

Sheffield hung up the phone and stepped into the room. "Already checking up on my treatment of your sister?"

Quatre wasn't in the mood to joke. "I am looking for Dorothy Catalonia."

"I haven't seen her since you interrupted our plans for lunch." Sheffield looked at Hadya. "Which reminds me, I haven't eaten yet."

"I have other plans first."

"You don't seem too concerned about Miss Dorothy's disappearance," interrupted Quatre with annoyance. 

Sheffield sighed as he reluctantly took his eyes from his new wife. "I think it is safe to tell you now that Dorothy and I are not involved. She accompanied me to this colony as my bodyguard, provided by the Earth Sphere United Nation. She is a Preventer agent."

Hadya glared at him. "You let me think..."

He shrugged. "My government didn't want to show any sign of weakness, and since Dorothy and I were once involved, it seemed the perfect cover. I'm sorry if the deception caused any hard feelings, but we felt it necessary."

"Miss Dorothy is a Preventer agent?" Quatre couldn't believe it. 

"She is able to take care of herself. She has been carrying a gun since we arrived."

Quatre had been hurt that she arrived on L4 posing as Sheffield's lover, but he was more furious now to learn the truth, that she had put herself in danger to protect the man. "So you have no idea where she is?"

"No. In fact, I was hoping she would move out of the room so I can be alone with Hadya." 

Since he was no help and was far too distracted by Hadya, Quatre left them without another word and headed to Relena Darlian's room. One of the agents knocked on the door for him, and this time Heero opened it. 

Quatre didn't bother with a greeting. "Where is Dorothy Catalonia?"

"I haven't seen her today," Heero told him. "I've been busy investigating the attack on James Sheffield."

"What did you discover?"

"That the attack was probably not meant to harm nor meant for Sheffield."

Relena came to the door. "We were having a late lunch, Mr. Winner. Would you care to join us?"

"I am looking for Miss Dorothy. Have you seen her this afternoon?"

"Why don't you come in," Heero suggested with a glance at the Preventer agents.

"I don't have time. I'm worried about Dorothy."

One of the agents cleared his throat.

"What is it Weston?" asked Heero.

"Agent Catalonia stopped by a few hours ago."

Heero and Quatre turned to look at Relena.

Relena raised her brows. "I didn't see her."

"I let her into the room at approximately two-thirty," added Weston.

"I was on the phone to Earth," stated Relena. "She couldn't have been here. Besides, you would have seen her, Heero."

"I didn't come back to the room until an hour ago."

"But I heard you come in when I was waiting for my call to go through. We had a discussion."

Heero snorted. "Did I answer?"

"Well...I guess you didn't."

"Typical in our discussions. So what did we _discuss_?"

Relena opened her mouth, then color rose to her cheeks and she looked quickly to Quatre. "Oh my! I...I...I thought I was talking to Heero."

"You told her?" Heero asked incredulously.

"I didn't know she was in the room!" 

Quatre didn't want to believe what he was hearing. "She...she didn't say anything?"

Relena looked from Quatre to Heero and back. "I...I'm so sorry! She'll never forgive any of us now."

"Where could she be?" asked Quatre.

"She has probably just gone some place to think it out," suggested Relena as Heero disappeared back in the room. "She'll be back after she has had a little time to come back to her senses."

Quatre's only consolation was that Rashid would be watching her as he instructed that morning after his discussion with Leila. At least Dorothy would be safe. 

Heero returned to the hall. "I called the port. The only shuttle leaving was a cargo transport headed to L2. It doesn't carry passengers so there is no passenger manifest to check."

"You think she ran away?" Relena shook her head. "I can't believe she would do such a thing."

"She did it before," pointed out Quatre.

Although Relena clearly wanted to comfort him, Quatre returned to his room to wait for Rashid to return. Fortunately, Jamila was still sleeping, so he had more time to come up with some kind of explanation that his daughter would understand about Dorothy's disappearance. But Quatre was tired of the lies and the secrets. Jamila had just as much right to know the truth as Dorothy, and maybe if he told her, she might understand why Dorothy was upset.

Rashid finally returned at seven o'clock, and he confirmed what Quatre suspected was the truth. He began his account with the attack in the corridor and Leila's threats because Rashid suspected that Leila was behind Dorothy's sudden departure from L4. He had assumed her visit to the Vice Foreign Minister was to inform her that she was leaving, and taking seriously his duty to Quatre, Rashid had tried to obtain passage on the cargo shuttle to follow but was unable to do so. But he was certain that she was on the ship.

Quatre felt many emotions as he listened, but in the end, he decided that he was more furious than anything else. Angry that he hadn't followed his instincts and told her immediately when he discovered the truth, and angry that she had once again left him without hearing him out. Worse, she left Jamila disappointed and hurt. Leila didn't drive Dorothy away. There was probably no way he could earn her forgiveness, but he had to try, for all their sakes.

"What are you going to do, Master Quatre?" asked Rashid.

The door to his room opened and they both turned to see a bleary eyed Jamila standing in the doorway. "Papa, has Miss Dorothy come by to see me?"

Quatre went to her and lifted her. "I'm sorry, Jamila, but Miss Dorothy left the colony today."

Jamila's eyes filled with tears. "Did I do something to make her angry?"

Quatre sighed. "No, sweetheart, I did."

"What did you do, Papa?" Jamila seemed surprised that he could cause pain to anyone. Quatre regretted that she had to learn differently.

"It is a very long story, Jamila. Do you want to hear it?"

"Does it have a sad ending?" she asked fearfully.

"It doesn't have an ending yet, Jamila. We have to make it ourselves."


	21. Chapter 21

****

Chapter 21

Finished reading a report, Quatre placed it on a small stack in a tray on the corner of his desk, then reached for another. If he kept himself busy, he wouldn't think about what was uppermost in his mind, especially when he returned to his hotel suite where Rashid would report what Jamila had been doing during the day. Her nanny, Mrs. Brown, was a cheery old woman who probably let his daughter get away with too much, like a grandmother would. Jamila was becoming headstrong, a personality trait that Sadirah had crushed during her reign of terror, and now Jamila needed the guidance of a mother. Quatre couldn't fill that need and he wasn't going to ask it of any woman but the one Jamila could call mother. Unfortunately, he didn't know where she was.

He was just studying numbers on a spreadsheet when his secretary buzzed and announced the arrival of Heero Yuy. Putting aside his work, he waited impatiently for his friend to enter, and when he did, neither man bothered with a greeting.

"Have you found her?"

Heero dumped a thick folder on Quatre's desk. "She doesn't want to be found."

Quatre looked at Heero's face. "You aren't going to advise me to stop trying to find her, are you? Because if you do, I'm not listening this time."

"She may need a little more time."

Quatre shook his head. "A week, a month, a year, five years. I'm not going to sit back and wait this one out. It's been six months already. Jamila needs her mother, and I'm sick of waking every day wondering if Dorothy is safe." He opened the folder, and on top of the pile of papers was the picture of a woman with curly red hair. "Who is this?"

"It's her, at least as she was a few days ago." Heero moved around the desk, dug through the papers and pulled out the copy of a passport. "This is one of her identities."

Quatre pushed the papers around and found half a dozen different surveillance pictures of what appeared to be different women. Included in the file were copies of passports for each woman. "How is she managing to do this?"

"When she landed on L2 she paid a visit to Duo Maxwell. She gave him a story about working undercover for the Preventers and that she needed to meet some people who could arrange a new identity for her. Because he knows one or two unsavory characters, he hooked her up with one who could help her. Since then, she has been relying on these unscrupulous people to keep her one step ahead of us."

Quatre sighed as he closed the folder. "I take it she is still one step ahead of you."

"I do have some good news," Heero told him. "We have finally managed to trace her money."

"Why haven't you done that before now?" The lack of progress his friend had made in finding Dorothy was frustrating, especially when Heero was an expert in the field.

"She wasn't using her money, at least not any we knew about. Apparently she has had access all along to an enormous fortune squirreled away by the Romefeller Foundation, or at least by Duke Dermail. The old bastard was skimming from the accounts and hiding it in Switzerland."

Rats stealing from rats. Quatre wasn't surprised. "Dorothy knew of this? How much money are you talking about?"

Heero pulled copies of bank records from the file. "Enough to keep her comfortable for a few lifetimes, certainly enough to pay people to keep her invisible."

"How did you find out about this?" Quatre knew how easy it was to hide money, or at least to keep others from gaining access.

"I was thinking about how this whole mess started, and then I remembered how she had pushed Randolph Morrison's final button. She juggled accounts on Bill Morley's computer. So I tinkered on his computer - it took several days - and I finally discovered her password: Angelina M."

Angelina Maria. Quatre had already discovered that was the name the Huffmanns and Dr. Richter had given Dorothy's child. 

"I was able to track her spending up until a few days ago when she must have realized someone was onto her because she changed the password."

"Did you discover anything of importance?" 

"She had purchased a ticket to Rio de Janeiro and booked a week at a resort."

Quatre guessed those plans were abruptly changed. "I suppose she canceled."

"Fortunately for you, Dorothy Catalonia has little concept of how the common man lives. She was raised by wealthy parents and spent her childhood as part of the baggage train of her mother. She would never think to check into a Best Western. That narrows the playing field to our advantage."

Quatre paged through the file, noting the cities she had visited and the places she had stayed. They were expensive, exclusive and populated by the bored upper crust of society seeking any form of entertainment. He didn't want to believe that she had become one of them because that lifestyle was addictive and destructive. Until his trip to Barbados, that was the kind of life he had been leading and heading toward a crash and burn until his involvement with Dorothy turned him in another direction.

"Where do we go from here?" he asked Heero.

"We go to Monte Carlo," Heero told him with a half-smile. "I alerted agents to watch for an unaccompanied young woman checking into any five star hotels. I wasn't expecting to get a response quite so soon, but I received this picture this morning." From out of his inside jacket pocket he pulled a photograph that he handed to Quatre. The woman with dark, shoulder-length wavy hair didn't look anything like Dorothy. Then again, neither did the other pictures he had seen.

"Are you sure this is her?" 

"This woman checked in to the Hotel de Paris after arriving in Nice following a flight from Rio de Janeiro."

"You might be wrong," Quatre said skeptically. He didn't want to get his hopes up. Dorothy could be anywhere, and he had a hard time believing the woman in the picture was her.

"Her fingerprints were lifted and checked in the database. The woman is Dorothy Catalonia."

Quatre reached out to press the button for his secretary. "I'll get a suite..."

Heero put up his hand to stop him. "I've already made arrangements. There is a room booked in case you need it." He handed Quatre a hotel reservation confirmation. "But you can't hide as easily as Dorothy Catalonia. Once she gets wind of your presence in Monte Carlo, she'll make another run."

"I must have lost my mind," commented Quatre with a shake of his head. "We are talking as if we are stalking some animal."

"I can cancel the reservation," suggested Heero.

"No! I'm not letting her get away this time." He buzzed his secretary and told her to inform the pilot of his jet to be ready within the hour, then he asked Heero. "Are you coming with me?"

Heero snorted. "I wouldn't dream of missing this. Relena is going to want a detailed account."

Before leaving for the airport, Quatre returned to the hotel suite that had become his home. Rashid was standing guard outside the door, so he explained his plans to his friend. Rashid wanted to accompany him, but Quatre preferred that he stay with Jamila while he was gone. Entering the suite, Quatre heard soft snoring and didn't get his hopes up that Jamila was napping. Instead, he saw Mrs. Brown sprawled on the couch, her head lolled back as she snored. Fortunately Jamila wasn't doing anything more dangerous than scribbling with an indelible marker on some reports Quatre had left on his desk. When she saw him enter, she quickly hid the marker and pretended to be innocent as she hoped off the desk chair and hurried to greet him.

Quatre should scold her, but he preferred just to hold her in his arms. He knew that he spent too much time working, and Jamila's attack on his paperwork proved that she was unhappy with his frequent absence. But he couldn't remedy the situation until he worked something out with Dorothy Catalonia. That something was nothing less than marriage, regardless of how she felt. 

"You are home early," said Jamila as she looked at his face. "Are we going to the zoo? Can we go to the park?"

He hated to disappoint her as he had been doing for months now. "I'm sorry, Jamila, but I don't have time. I am going away."

The worried look in her eyes went straight to his heart, then she asked, "Can I come with you?"

He glanced at Mrs. Brown. He doubted the woman wanted to hop on a jet and fly to Monte Carlo. "This is something I have to do alone."

Jamila looked him in the eye. "Are you going to see Miss Dorothy?"

Although Jamila knew that Dorothy was her mother, she did not refer to her as such. Quatre was still unsure if Jamila understood everything he had told her, and he was equally uncertain about her feelings. He feared that deep down inside Jamila would always consider Sadirah Barak her mother, and he hoped that she could make room in her heart for Dorothy. Dorothy didn't deserve what had happened to her.

He decided to be honest with Jamila. "I'm going to try to find her."

Jamila looked away from him, and for a moment he was afraid that she was disapproving of his mission. Then she turned her head back to him and he saw that her eyes were swimming with tears. "Will I get to see Miss Dorothy?"

Quatre decided at that moment that he would not be making any bargains with Dorothy Catalonia. He wasn't going to give her the freedom to choose. "You will."

Jamila hugged him tightly and was reluctant to release him when he told her that he had to prepare for his trip. She followed him to his room where Quatre threw a few essential items in a bag. Whatever else he needed, he would purchase via telecommunication en route to Nice so that it would be waiting for him when he arrived at the airport. He had difficulty in saying good-bye to Jamila because he could see that she was afraid that he would not come back to her although she bravely tried to hide it. He ended up wiping away her tears and promising that things would be better when he returned.

Once in the hall he gave further instructions to Rashid then headed down to meet Heero Yuy in the lobby. He drove to the airport without making conversation and they didn't discuss any plans until the jet had taken off. Given that one or two photographers snapped pictures of him at the airport, Quatre gauged that they had little time if those pictures were published before Dorothy discovered that he was on the move. 

The flight to Nice took three hours, and during that time Heero made arrangements to put Dorothy under heavy surveillance by Preventer agents skilled in such work, so Quatre was reasonably assured that she wouldn't be able to slip through their fingers. Once they arrived at the airport in Nice, they took a private helicopter ride to Monte Carlo and when they landed, a car was waiting to take them to the hotel. Heero chose to go by taxi, reasoning that they were better off splitting up. 

By early evening, Quatre was at the desk of the hotel waiting to check in. The young woman at the desk was in the middle of her standard, bored greeting when she stopped abruptly and her eyes widened when she realized to whom she was speaking. Now was one of those moments that Quatre wished he could blend in, but because of his wealth and position, he never would. Because the young desk clerk had become mindless and speechless, the manager stepped forward, and with barely a blink of the eye, took Quatre's confirmation card.

He shook his head. "There must be some mistake, Mr. Winner. I will have the presidential suite prepared immediately..."

"There is no need. I will not be staying long and I want the room booked for me." Quatre glanced around the luxurious lobby as he waited, and as he was turning back, the opening of the elevator door drew his attention.

If he hadn't already seen the photograph of her recently assumed identity, Quatre might not have recognized Dorothy as she stepped from the elevator. Wearing an elegant designer evening gown of black silk that clung provocatively to her, she was decked out in diamonds and a sable wrap. Her darkened hair was held up with diamond combs, and he was assured that it was her by the dangling diamond earrings she wore. He had filched one of those same earrings the night of the charity ball when he had given her a ride home so that he could have the opportunity of seeing her again.

Realizing that he was gawking at her, Quatre turned quickly away and noticed the manager smiling at him. "She is quite beautiful, no?"

"Indeed," he said as he signed the guest book. "I do not wish to be disturbed." Quatre reached into his pocket, peeled off several bills to hand to the manager. "Perhaps you can tell me the young woman's name."

The man behind the desk turned the guest book back a page. "She signed her name Angela Delrio. She is from Barcelona, but currently residing in Suite 4B."

Quatre risked looking back toward her and saw the doorman open the door and escort her to a waiting car. "I don't suppose you would know where Señorita Delrio is headed?"

"She did send for a car," hedged the manager showing some remorse for disclosing private details of his guests.

Quatre raised a brow. "You wouldn't know the destination?"

The man gave up, finding it impossible to deny the richest man in the Earth Sphere United Nation. "I believe she is headed to Le Casino."

"That would be my destination then. Please inform my driver." Quatre took the key from the manager, then headed to the room Heero had booked for him. Used to staying in suites, he thought after opening the door that he must have mistaken a closet for his room. With a sigh he realized that it didn't matter that there was just the one room beside the small bathroom because he wouldn't be staying here much beyond changing into the formal evening attire he had purchased sight unseen. 

Heero was waiting in the car, and he raised his brow when Quatre settled into the car. "She's not going to notice you, is she?"

Quatre knew he would stand out with his dark Italian suit and bright blond hair. Because he had used the tailor in the past, the suit fit to perfection. He shrugged as he adjusted his diamond cufflinks. "I'm going to a casino where I've dropped plenty of money in the past. I hope you have a net set out for her because she's not going to miss me."

"My men and women are in position to cover all exits."

Quatre didn't care if he was making a mistake or not by going to such extreme lengths to get Dorothy back. Her behavior was childish and irrational, so he was going to prove he could be just as childish and irrational.

The casino manager greeted him personally when the doorman radioed a message that he had arrived. The small man hurried to shake his hand. "Monsieur Winner, I am so delighted to see you! How long has it been?"

"Seems like only yesterday, Jacques," commented Quatre wryly as he looked out over the crowd of elegantly dressed men and woman ringing tables, wagering fortunes, drinking too much, sharing whatever substances they were hiding in their pockets. There were many nights that Quatre wouldn't have known how much money he had lost had Hassan Barak not covered his bets and reported to him the following day as he nursed incredible hangovers. He knew many of the people who haunted the casino, those debauched by having too much money and too much time on their hands and the sycophants who grasped the edge of their society and hung on without realizing how useless their lives had become. 

Jacques rubbed his hands together. "Do you have a preference tonight, monsieur?"

Quatre hadn't come to play, but he knew he would have to in order to blend in. Glancing over the crowd, he sought Señorita Delrio and saw her moving toward a roulette table, a couple of drooling young men on her heels. "I think I will play a little roulette."

Jacques followed his gaze and a knowing smile curved his lips. "A fine choice, monsieur. Mademoiselle Delrio has quite an extensive account of her own."

Quatre knew that Jacques was referring to the gold-digging women eyeing him speculatively. Instead of immediately joining the table that Dorothy had chosen, Quatre stationed himself at one several feet away so that he could watch her without her knowledge. She bet recklessly, allowed herself to be flattered by her two admirers, and she made the mistake of drinking too much as she continued to lose. The two young men were more interested in her body than her money, a fact she seemed to be oblivious to as she haphazardly bet on the roulette wheel. 

Barely concentrating on his own play, Quatre was somewhat surprised to find himself winning, but less surprised to find women vying for his attention. He recognized one or two faces, and one woman joined him at the table, attempting to distract him from his true purpose to coming to the casino. 

"It's been a long time, Quatre," she purred as she slipped an arm around his waist and moved against him. 

Quatre couldn't remember her name although he did have a vague memory of having sex with her once or twice. The thought made his gut twist with another unpleasant memory of taking Dorothy to the dance club in Barbados when he had flaunted other women in order to destroy her self-confidence. If she knew he was here in the casino, she could almost be doing the same by flirting with her admirers. When she wasn't looking, the young men exchanged conspiratorial glances.

"Are you here alone?" asked the woman touching him casually.

"I'm with someone," he lied, not taking his eyes off Dorothy. One of the men brought a drink to the table for her, and Quatre noted that his cohort slipped a powder in it before handing it to her.

"I didn't realize that you were into the party scene."

Irritated by the cloying woman, Quatre shook her off and slid the pile of chips he had won in front of her. "Have a good time."

He didn't reach Dorothy before she drained the glass. Quatre hoped that she hadn't become a gambling, partying lush because he couldn't see himself bringing that kind of woman home to raise his daughter. Correction, their daughter. 

Although he attracted attention, Quatre remained at the edge of the crowd watching the action at this particular roulette wheel. Dorothy had lost a fortune already, so Quatre guessed people were waiting to see how she would react to losing the last few chips before her. Quatre could see that the drug was starting to take effect by her sluggish motions and her glazed gaze. But when her admirers closed in to keep her from falling from the stool upon which she was perched, Quatre stepped forward and shouldered one away.

"Here you are, Angela," he said smoothly, while raising a challenging brow at both men. "You left the hotel without me."

Dorothy tried to focus and failing, she merely giggled.

Slipping an arm around her waist, he was about to pull her from the table when the dealer announced that she had won on her final straight up bet, recouping most of her losses. Dorothy clearly didn't recognize him, nor did he think she had any sense of what she was doing when she bet thousands of dollars on one number. 

He had no choice but wait as the dealer spun the wheel, dropped the ball and the crowed watched with breathless anticipation as the ball rolled round and round until bouncing, then dropping to rest on the black number four. The dealer stared speechlessly, and for a moment nobody watching said a thing until Dorothy slurred, "My lucky number."

"Let's get out of here," muttered Quatre as the dealer pushed the chips in front of her. Dorothy seemed unable to focus, and Quatre glanced around, looking for her admirers and finding them gone, he guessed they would be waiting for him outside the casino. 

She didn't protest as he lead her through the amazed crowd, but before he could leave, Jacques, the manager, stopped him at the door. "Monsieur Winner, what shall I do with Mademoiselle Delrio's winnings?"

The man seemed a bit harried because the house had lost a great deal of money on the last spin of that particular roulette wheel. "I will send the name of the charity to which she would like it contributed." That was the least she could do with the stolen Romefeller money.

Dorothy walked with him, but her mind was clearly engaged in some hallucination that made her receptive to following his lead. By the time he stepped out of the casino, Jacques had called for his car. But as Quatre suspected, the two young men were waiting in the dark and stepped out, one of them carrying a pipe. Sighing, Quatre handed Dorothy into the car, then removed his suit coat and tossing it inside, he told the driver to stay with her before turning to face his attackers. He noticed Heero Yuy standing just inside a dark alley, watching with his arms folded over his chest.

"Can I help you?" Quatre asked the men innocently.

"I think you know what we want." The first one nodded toward the car.

"Life is full of disappointments," Quatre told them matter-of-factly. "This is just one of many for you."

The first man swung at him, but Quatre ducked and rammed into his gut with his shoulder, knocking the air from him and plowing him into the man holding the pipe. The second man recovered and swung the pipe at Quatre, but he grabbed his wrist and twisted it until the pipe dropped from his hand, then he smashed his fist in his face. Unfortunately, the first man had retrieved the pipe and brought it down on Quatre's head. For a moment he was dazed, giving his attackers the chance to get in several punishing blows. 

Finally the fight was abruptly ended by the arrival of the authorities probably called by the car driver, and as the police chased his assailants, Quatre pulled himself up and found himself facing Heero Yuy.

"You could have helped," he said resentfully. He was bruised, his clothing was ripped, and he had a huge lump on his head.

Heero shrugged. "I wouldn't have let them kill you." He moved past Quatre and put one arm on the top of the car as he leaned in to look at Dorothy. "How are you this evening Señorita Delrio?"

She giggled. "You are an ass, Heero Yuy."

Heero chuckled as he straightened and turned to look at Quatre. "I hope you won't be taking advantage of her."

"She deserves it," grumbled Quatre, but he had no intention of taking advantage of Dorothy in that state.

"I'll see you in the morning. In the meantime, don't lose her." Heero thrust his hands in his pocket and walked away.

Quatre gave directions to the driver after joining Dorothy. Her eyes were closed and she was sighing deeply in sleep. For a moment he watched her tenderly, then he turned away in disgust as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. She had behaved with stupid disregard for her safety. He couldn't help but wonder how often she had been in these situations. At the moment he wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, to tell her exactly how much she had hurt him and their daughter by running away. 

When they arrived back at the hotel, Quatre roughly shook her awake so that she was lucid enough to walk rather than be carried ignobly into the luxurious hotel. He ignored the curious stares as he escorted her to the elevator, and once they were inside, he took her purse and dug out the key to her suite, but he stopped the elevator on the floor where his room was located. She needed to learn a lesson about her imprudent behavior. Fortunately for her he would be teaching it, not the two goons that had planned to have a good time at her expense.

Dorothy awoke with a headache, a sour taste in her mouth and an unpleasant churning in her stomach as she realized that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. Naked, tangled in a sheet that she quickly pulled up to cover her, she discovered her gown lying several feet from the bed, and her underclothes scattered. Reaching up to her throat, she realized before she touched her bare throat that her necklace was gone as well as her earrings, and her hair was lying over her shoulders, testimony to her missing hairpins. Swallowing her bile, she left the bed, and after a quick search turned up no other occupant of the room, not even a suitcase, she trudged to the bathroom where she proceeded to empty her stomach in the toilet. 

Throwing on the water of the shower, she stepped in and let the hot water do its magic as she rested her aching head on the tiled wall of the shower. Dorothy couldn't remember anything about the previous evening after she had arrived at the casino and started gambling at the roulette table. She had only gone because she was bored although she knew she was taking a chance of being recognized. But in her present disguise she felt safe even though someone had hacked into her personal bank accounts to discover her most recent transactions. 

Dorothy was rather disappointed to have to cut her planned trip to Rio de Janeiro because she was looking forward to some time in the sun. Instead she had returned to Europe to make a fool of herself. Her imagination was vivid enough to give her an explanation of how she might have spent the evening. At least she hadn't had sex, which hardly made up for losing a valuable set of jewelry to her chivalrous thief. Perhaps this experience was a warning to her. The night could have ended with far worse consequences than the loss of her jewelry. She certainly had no intention of returning to the casino where she might run into whatever man had brought her back to the hotel. She did still have clothing for the beach, so she decided to spend the afternoon on the beach in Nice nursing her hangover. While she was there, she would plan where to go next.

After drying off, she pulled on her discarded clothing, annoyed that she would be returning to her suite in a wrinkled silk evening gown. Her sable wrap was gone as well. She had been stupid the previous evening, but she had gotten off easy.

Fortunately she didn't run into anyone on the way to her suite, but once she arrived, she was irritated to realize that her key was missing. However the door was ajar, and Dorothy stepped in to see that her suitcases were open, her clothing thrown around, and she didn't need to look to know that anything of value was missing. She stared at the mess for several minutes, then moved things around to find a bottle of painkillers for her headache and was irritated to see that it was gone. She used a few choice words for a thief that would add insult to injury by stealing her ibuprofen. 

Taking a deep, calming breath, Dorothy dug out a bathing suit, pulled it on, then found a sundress. After throwing her sunblock in a bag, she grabbed her sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat and after calling the desk to arrange for a car, she headed to the elevator. She wasn't going to let this setback spoil her day. But just as she stepped into the elevator and was about to close the door, a hand caught it and she felt her heart skip a beat until a woman stepped inside, smiled blandly at her and then proceeded to ignore Dorothy. Dorothy's head was pounding, and her empty stomach was threatening to growl, but the woman was distracting as she began to get the niggling of a suspicion.

Once the elevator reached the ground level, the woman stepped out first, and Dorothy watched her walk away before she went to the desk. 

"I would like to speak to the manager," she told the desk clerk who promptly buzzed him.

The man came out of his office immediately. "What can I do for you Mademoiselle Delrio?"

"I would like to know who is staying in room 223." 

The manager raised a brow. "I am sorry, mademoiselle, but I cannot give you that information."

"Can't or won't?" Dorothy raised a brow at him. "I have reason to believe that person stole a considerable fortune in jewels and cash from me, so I would like to report him to the authorities."

"The man staying in room 223?" The manager pressed his lips together tightly in an attempt to conceal a smile, but the desk clerk behind him chuckled. "I assure you, mademoiselle," the manager finally said, "that the guest in question would not steal from you."

Dorothy frowned at him. "Someone did, and I hope you make some attempt to find the perpetrator. I am going to Nice. When I return, I expect you to have some information for me."

"Indeed." He didn't seem nearly as solicitous as he had the previous day, so she wondered if he would act on her order. "By the way, Mademoiselle Delrio, there is a message from Le Casino de Monte Carlo for you."

Dorothy took the envelope and opening it, she pulled out a card from the manager informing her of the disposition of her considerable winnings the evening before. The Earth Sphere United Nation Children's Fund was grateful for the donation. She had won money? Dorothy had no memory of that, and certainly not the fortune that had been donated in her name. Had she had the wits to arrange it before returning to the hotel?

A man passing through the lobby drew her attention for a moment, and she thought she might have seen him before, but she couldn't place him. He disappeared through another exit before she could study him further. Then she noticed the woman from the elevator again, and she was standing near the entrance to the hotel restaurant. 

"Do you need anything else today, mademoiselle?"

Dorothy looked back at the hotel manager. "See that the authorities are called."

She headed to the door, then suddenly stopped as she realized where she had seen the man before. Agent Weston? The last time she had seen him he was on L4. Dorothy spun around to look for him, but he was gone. Was it a coincidence that he was in Monte Carlo? Dorothy was getting the uncomfortable feeling that it was no coincidence, but she had no plan to leave as of yet and she would need some time to wire enough money to Monte Carlo so she could plan another trip, another disguise. 

She wished Quatre Winner would just stop pursuing her so that she could rest. The moment she had stepped off the cargo shuttle on L2 she realized that Quatre was more determined that she had given him credit for. The news had been inundated with the announcement of his resignation from any government position on L4 citing personal reasons. She was too upset and angry to return to him, but she knew he would be looking for her so she enlisted the aid of Duo Maxwell to help her escape. He had been reluctant at first until she told him her fabricated story about working undercover for the Preventers. Including the fact that it was an internal investigation and that he shouldn't trust any Preventer agents helped to keep her invisible for a long time. She guessed that Heero Yuy broke him down into confessing to his role in helping her. Heero Yuy was also very likely responsible for finding her personal hidden accounts. Fortunately she had discovered it before he could do anything more than spy on her. 

Glancing one more time around the lobby, Dorothy noted the woman studying the menu posted outside the restaurant, but still no sign of Weston. She convinced herself that she had been mistaken. Weston wouldn't be in Monte Carlo.

The doorman held the door open for her, and she noticed a hotel limousine headed towards her. Suddenly another car sped forward, cut off the limousine and screeched to a stop at the curb. Dorothy was so shocked to see Quatre Winner get out of the convertible sportscar, move around the side and open the door that she hadn't moved, hadn't even been able to draw a breath.

"Get in," he ordered tersely.

Dorothy stared at him, first in disbelief that he was there, then with anger. "I will not! I believe that you are blocking the car I ordered."

Quatre grabbed her arm in a bruising, tight grasp. "Then I guess I will just have to help you."

"If you don't let me go, I'll scream," she warned him.

He shrugged. "Go ahead."

Dorothy turned back to ask the doorman for help, but instead of the hotel employee, she found Heero Yuy standing negligently by, his face impassive as he watched Quatre force her into the car. From out of the hotel stepped the woman she had seen along with Weston, and they had a brief exchange with Heero. Preventer agents!

Realizing that she had little choice, Dorothy buckled herself in, then turned to glare at Quatre. "How nice to see you, Mr. Winner," she said sarcastically.

He didn't say anything before throwing the car in gear and squealing out. Dorothy turned one last time to give Heero an obscene gesture, then stared straight ahead as Quatre sped along the street. Soon enough they had left Monaco behind before she spoke to him.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

"Nice."

"Good. That is where I was planning to go. You can let me off at the beach." A sudden thought occurred to her, and she lowered her sunglasses to look at him again. "You weren't by any stretch of the imagination staying in room 223?"

Quatre glanced at her, reached inside his jacket and pulled out a bottle of painkillers that he tossed at her. "You look like hell."

Her hands were shaking as she opened the bottle, and dumping a couple of pills in her hand, she popped them in her mouth and quickly swallowed them. If he weren't driving so fast and recklessly, she would sock him in the mouth.

"I would appreciate it if you would return my things," she said, trying to sound calm. 

"We'll discuss it later."

"Later? Oh no, I don't think so. I have a day at the beach planned..."

"I'll try not to spoil your plans. You look like you need a little sun anyway." Quatre was staring straight ahead, for which she was grateful because the road was rather dangerous. "You've been creeping around in the gutters and hiding in the shadows a little too much lately."

She was seething with anger, but she didn't respond. What could she say when he was absolutely right? The people on whom she had to rely for keeping her hidden from Quatre Winner were the lowest dregs of society, but she needed to associate with them to use their particular talents. In her handbag, she had the name and number of one of these wretched people living in Nice who would be making her new identity papers once she had decided Monte Carlo was no longer safe. She wouldn't need that information anymore unless she managed to escape from Quatre.

Although she wanted to know what Quatre was planning to do with her, she turned deliberately away and stared at the sea. She wanted to know how Jamila was, but she refused to let him know how difficult it was for her to stay away from her daughter because he would use it against her. Quatre was a lying bastard who would do or say anything to get his way, especially since he couldn't use his money to buy her like he did everyone else.

Soon enough they were on the outskirts of Nice, but Quatre barely slowed down and he certainly didn't stop at any one of the beaches they passed. Dorothy gritted her teeth and clenched her fists in her lap. There was nothing she could do to stop whatever he had planned short of throwing herself out of the car and killing herself in the process. She didn't want to take that step. He wasn't worth it.

When Nice was behind them, she finally turned to him. "I thought you were taking me to the beach as I requested."

"I didn't say exactly which beach I would be taking you to."

"I suppose I could just as easily get a tan in Antibes," she remarked. "Just leave me there. I'll find my way back." 

"This isn't a taxi service, Señorita Delrio," he said sarcastically.

She glared at him. "How long were you spying on me?" Then she noticed that he had a bruise on his face. "What happened to you? Were you fighting?"

"Your escorts didn't want to give you up," he told her, then flipped down his sunglasses so that she couldn't see his eyes. 

"My escorts?" Dorothy couldn't remember any escorts. "I went to the casino alone."

Quatre didn't turn his head. "Those pleasant young men didn't plan for you to leave alone."

She vaguely remembered two young men flattering her, buying her drinks, and since she had been in a good mood having thought she had eluded Heero Yuy, she hadn't refused. Now she was mortified that she had escaped a degrading experience due to Quatre Winner's intervention. She would rather burn in hell than thank him.

Quatre turned the car off the freeway and she noticed that they were headed to the airport. She spun to look at him. "Where are you taking me?"

"To the beach."

Dorothy wished she had her gun, but only Preventer agents were allowed to carry the weapons on Earth, so she had to give it up long ago. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she told him emphatically. "And I would appreciate it if you would stop pursuing me."

He pulled the car to a stop in the loading zone for international flights, and she quickly turned to open the door intending to escape into the crowd, but the door was jerked open and she looked up to see Heero Yuy. "Are you working at the airport now?" she asked contemptuously, shaking off his hand when he would have grabbed her arm to prevent escape. Dorothy had little doubt that nine out of ten of the people around them were his agents.

Heero smiled grimly. "The tips are good."

"How did you get here so fast?" she asked with irritation.

"Helicopter."

Quatre came around the car and tossed Heero the keys. "Do something with it." Then he grabbed Dorothy's arm and held tight although she tried to jerk it away.

"You're hurting me," she informed him as he pulled her along with him.

"Don't make a scene."

She didn't have to make a scene for the photographers to emerge from the woodwork to snap photographs of Quatre. That he was escorting an unidentified woman to his private jet waiting for takeoff on the runway was fodder enough to keep the investigative journalists busy for days trying to discover her identity and his plans for her.

He ushered her up the steps of the jet, and as she settled on a seat, she heard the pilot informing him that the weather would be clear for the duration of the flight and that they already had clearance to land. Then Quatre took a seat across the aisle from her and buckled his seat belt just as the jet headed down the runway.

Dorothy looked deliberately away from him. He didn't care that he was disrupting her life again. Granted, her life had become rather empty, but at least she didn't have to worry about who her friends were and who was lying to her and who was keeping secrets from her. The pain she felt was as fresh today as it was six months ago when Relena had inadvertently told her about Jamila. Dorothy didn't want to have anything to do with these people. She had felt safer following in her mother's footsteps, visiting the places that seemed to fill the void in her mother's life left by a husband that preferred war strategy to spending any time with his family. That bastard probably had as many women to keep him satisfied as her mother had men. Dorothy hated the life they had given her, the only life she could fall back on when her attempt to find something better had failed. She didn't know what she would do now, and she didn't like the lost, aimless feeling, the same feeling she had when she had decided to go to Barbados.

Once they were in the air, Quatre stood, and without looking at her moved down the aisle, and she turned to watch him settle behind a desk and pull out a laptop computer. 

Dorothy unbuckled her own belt and made her way to him. "Where are we going?"

"You'll know when we get there," he said without looking up.

She paced away from him. "You are crazy," she muttered, then spun to look at him. He was typing something, apparently not listening to her. "This is kidnapping! You can't just drag me off like some sort of caveman!"

Quatre didn't look up. "I rather saw myself in the role of the white knight saving a damsel in distress last night." 

"Don't flatter yourself." He was studying the screen of his computer, completely ignoring her. "There is bound to be someone who will listen to me. At the very least the press will love this story. Will you like that?"

While he didn't look up, Dorothy could sense the tension that was building. Quatre hated the limelight, despised the constant attack of photographers and gossipmongers. He was staring at his screen, his brows furrowed, and stretching to peek over the top of the screen, she saw that he was studying a financial report.

"You're not even listening to me!" Dorothy put her hand on the back of the screen and slammed it down so hard that she heard a cracking sound.

Quatre slowly raised his gaze to her, and while the smoldering blue fire in his eyes should have warned her to move, the tingle of excitement racing through her rooted her to the spot. Standing, he reached out to snake an arm around the waist and he jerked her roughly to him. 

She knew she should stop him, but she was wound so tightly that she needed something to alleviate the tension. His mouth covered hers in a bruising, punishing kiss that she returned with as much force as he gave. He swept out his other hand, knocking the computer off the desk and he pushed her down on it. This wasn't going to solve anything, but Dorothy couldn't resist what she realized she wanted so badly. There was no need for words or caresses or even the gentle, caring kisses she had grown accustomed to with him. What happened between them was explosive and more mind numbing than whatever drug she had been slipped the night before. 

When she finally came back to earth and Quatre was lifting himself away from her, she felt a mixture of shame and gratification. He must have been feeling the same because he turned away from her to adjust his clothing without saying a word. Dorothy wasn't sure how she should take his silence.

She was shaking as she slid off the edge of the desk, rearranging her own clothing and noting the damage, a tear here, a missing button there. When she felt composed enough to talk, she turned back to him. He was half turned away from her, his hands in his pockets, his head lowered like a dog that had misbehaved. She realized that he probably felt ashamed of his behavior with her.

Dorothy couldn't help lashing out at him. "That is all I am to you!"

He glanced at her, then turned away, but she saw the disgust in his eyes. She could only assume it was for her and her lack of restraint. "Get some rest. The flight is long." Without another word, he headed toward the cockpit and a few moments later the pilot came through the door, a bemused expression on his face. 

"Mr. Winner is flying the jet," he announced.

Sighing, she threw herself back into her seat, and glancing out the window she saw that they were over the ocean. She still didn't know where they were headed.

Looking at the disoriented pilot she asked, "What is our destination?"

He looked at her with surprise. "We should be landing at Christ Church in about four hours."

Dorothy looked away so that the man wouldn't see her angry tears. They were headed to Barbados.


	22. Chapter 22

****

Chapter 22

He didn't trust himself to stay with her after what had happened, so Quatre piloted and landed his own jet in Barbados. He was disgusted with how he had treated her, angry with her for allowing it. Jamila's mother deserved more respect than to be treated like a whore. Although a part of him knew that Dorothy had goaded him, he should have shown more self-restraint. But his emotions had been running on high for months, were still simmering even after he had boiled over. Their wrestle on the desk, while gratifying one way only served to stoke the fires at the root of their problems. And when passion had died down, Dorothy lashed out at him with an angry accusation that had hit him dead center after what they had just done.

She didn't understand his feelings, or that he had a right to be angry. When she had first told him about the baby she had lost, he had been more concerned for her feelings, but he had plenty of time to think of how unfair she had been to him in keeping it secret. Dorothy had kept her secret for years and expected him to forgive her, but she wouldn't even give him a day to prepare her for the shock he was still trying to cope with, that Jamila was their child. She left him when he needed her, just as she had run out on him five years ago. At least then he could keep track of how she was, but the last six months he had been worried sick about her welfare. If her foolish behavior in Monte Carlo were any example, he had good reason to worry about her.

Quatre left the jet first and waited for her to climb down the steps. She had put on her sunglasses so he couldn't see her eyes, and the wide brim of her hat was shading her face. 

The weather was hot and humid, so Quatre guessed that a storm was brewing. "I hope you got some rest."

She didn't respond, but stood rigidly staring at him from behind the sunglasses. Quatre didn't bother speaking again, but indicated with the sweep of his arm the direction to the car. They didn't have to wait for any luggage to be unloaded. He had none beyond the briefcase containing his work and everything he had pilfered from her room that was of any value. 

The car dealership owner waiting for him, and the man was grinning from ear to ear because he was selling the most expensive car on his lot without haggling over the price. Dorothy stood by with her back to them, and when he had the keys, she settled into the car without a word. Quatre climbed into the sportscar with her and put down the top, then tossed the briefcase in the back.

When he put the keys in the ignition, she remarked, "I don't have any clothing, but then I don't suppose I need any."

Quatre didn't respond. Her acerbic remark hit him in that place where he felt deep remorse for how he had treated her five years ago. He started the car and sped away from the airport, but he didn't head directly to the beach house. He pulled to a stop at the first salon he saw, then turned to look at her. "Get your hair done. I want it back the way it was." He reached out to flick her dark hair. "This disgusts me."

She pulled off her sunglasses to glare at him. "Why? Does it remind you of someone? Sadirah Barak, perhaps?"

Dorothy was too perceptive. "Are you going in on your own or do I have to carry you and hold you down?" he asked through gritted teeth.

She jerked open the car door. "I'll spare us both the embarrassment."

He watched her march stiffly to the door, throw it open and then disappear inside. Quatre waited in the car, first making a call to the beach house to be sure it was ready for their arrival, then pulling open his briefcase and flipping through reports while glancing inside the salon from time to time to be sure she wasn't attempting an escape. Dorothy seemed to be resigned to whatever he had planned because she sat with a chemical wrap on her hair as she flipped through a magazine. She probably thought that he would release her at some point if she cooperated, but he had no intention of doing so whether she did or not.

When she left the salon over an hour later, her hair had returned to its original color. The stylist had given her an attractive style, but Quatre would miss the long, silky strands that had fallen victim to her various disguises. 

"Pay the woman," she snapped when she settled in the car. She raised a brow. "I seem to have misplaced my cash."

Taking the car keys with him, Quatre went into the salon, and ignoring the gawking women, he paid the stylist ten times her posted rate, then left the salon with several pairs of eyes following him. Dorothy didn't say anything more, not even when he pulled to a stop at the same boutique at which he had purchased her clothing five years ago. She merely held out her hand, and he slapped a plastic card in it. He didn't insult her by following her into the boutique to approve her purchases. And she didn't spend much time on the excursion. Less than ten minutes had elapsed before she left the boutique with several bags, which she tossed in the back.

Frowning, he looked from the bags to her, then asked, "Did you try anything on?"

"Why? I plan to spend my time on the beach getting a tan. If I remember correctly, a bathing suit is optional. I grabbed a few things in case you decided to take me dancing."

Another jab, another pang of conscience. "I think we'll be staying at the beach house."

"I'm not surprised."

Her tone was insulting in its insinuation. When they arrived she would realize how mistaken she was in his intentions, but until then he would suffer her taunts in silence. Fortunately, she didn't say anything more as he drove them to the beach house. He had purchased the property before he left Barbados five years ago and hadn't returned since although a caretaker lived nearby and saw to its upkeep. Stepping out of the car, he could hear the waves crashing against the shore although the oppressive heat made the air stagnant. 

Throwing open the door, she stepped out, then noticed another car in the drive, and she was turning, probably to ask him about it, when the door to the beach house opened and Jamila flew down the few steps. She paused in front of Dorothy, her innocent face turned up to her, looking in wonder at the woman she knew was her mother. Quatre prayed that Dorothy wouldn't say or do anything that would hurt Jamila.

Dorothy put a shaky hand to her chest as she stared down at Jamila. Neither said a word, then Dorothy gulped for air and pushed past Jamila to hurry into the beach house.

Jamila watched her go, and when she turned back to him, he was saddened to see her eyes glistening with tears. Quatre closed the distance between them and swept her up into his arms. She rubbed her face on his shirt, then forced a smile to her lips as she raised her head for his kisses to her cheeks.

He was afraid that Dorothy had hurt her feelings, but Jamila said, "Miss Dorothy is not happy to be here."

"No, I don't think she is." Quatre saw Rashid step out of the beach house, a questioning lift to his heavy brows.

"Well," commented Quatre, "At least I found her."

"I am sure, Master Quatre, that the story would be amusing."

"Not at the moment," he assured him. "I hope you don't mind getting a room in town. I think we need to spend some time alone, the three of us."

Rashid nodded and came down the steps, then put his hand on Quatre's shoulder. "I think she needs you just as much as you need her."

He chucked Jamila under the chin. "Be a good girl, Missy Jamila."

"I'm always a good girl," she announced with a sly smile.

Rashid was chuckling as he walked to the other car. Quatre watched him drive away, then looked at Jamila. "We're on our own now." Setting her on the ground, he reached into the car and pulled out the bags from the shop and his briefcase. Jamila took one of the bags although she seemed to have difficulty dragging it up the steps, but she refused to give it up when he tried to help her. 

"Did you get something for me?" she asked as she fished around in the bag, pulling out the brightly colored clothing and tossing it on the floor.

Quatre was about to tell her to stop when he noticed that Dorothy was standing in the doorway leading to the verandah, her eyes on the mess that Jamila had made. Jamila sensed her presence too, and she turned a horrified gaze to Dorothy. Quatre had little doubt how Sadirah would punish her, so in Jamila's mind, the word 'mother' was synonymous with physical pain.

Without a word, Dorothy slipped out the door, her step clipped, her body rigid. Quatre watched her disappear from view, then he realized that Jamila was sniffling, and turning, he saw that she was trying to fold the clothing she had spilled onto the floor.

"I didn't mean to make Miss Dorothy angry," she said tearfully.

Quatre didn't know what to say, but he knew that he felt Jamila's hurt as keenly as if it were his own. Instead of responding to his daughter, he headed to the door through which Dorothy had gone. She had reached the edge of the verandah and had one foot on the steps to the beach before he caught her and grabbed her arm.

"I want to talk to you!"

She spun around and tore her arm from his grasp. "I am going to the beach!"

The clouds overhead had darkened, and a distant rumbling warned of the approaching storm. "I can take whatever you say or do to me, but I won't allow you to hurt Jamila."

Dorothy was clenching her fists tightly at her side as she glared at him. "How could you do this to me? How could you bring me back here?"

Her hurt and anger was so strong that he could feel it. "I had hoped that we could work out our problems here."

"By bringing me to this place?" Tears gathered in her eyes, and she looked so much like Jamila a few moments ago, that he was moved to comfort her, but Dorothy took a step back from him. "You have no idea how I felt! For the first time, my life had some meaning, and then it was taken away! Over and over again, you give me hope, and then you take it back! I gave you my trust; I gave you my love, and all I have received in return is pain!"

He wanted to tell her that he hadn't meant to hurt her, but he had originally picked her up so that he could use her like a toy and toss her aside when he was through. Quatre was disgusted by the man that he had been. "I didn't expect it to turn out like this." He hadn't expected to fall in love with her.

She was breathing heavily, trying not to cry and failing as the tears dripped from her lashes. "I wish...I wish I had never come to Barbados! I wish I had used some common sense and told you to go to hell when you found me! My life was better when I was alone! What do I have now? I don't even have my dignity left! You took that away from me too!"

"What about Jamila?" he asked desperately. He could live with her rejection because he had earned it, but Dorothy needed Jamila as much as Jamila needed her.

"I can't be her mother! I once thought that I could, but my right to raise her was taken away. She'll always be Sadirah Barak's daughter!" Turning, she hurried down the steps and he watched her kick off her shoes and walk onto the beach. The wind whipped her hair, and drops of rain pelted her, but she did not turn back. She went to the shore and sat down, drawing up her legs and hiding her face in the arms she wrapped around them. The rain began to pour down, but she didn't move.

Knowing she wouldn't accept his comfort, Quatre went back into the beach house. Jamila was sitting on the floor where he had left her, and she was crying too. If he thought crying would help, he might join her. What made him think this would work? They probably needed an army of psychologists to sort through the mess.

He reached down and lifted Jamila, and holding her close, he sat down on a gliding chair by the window where he could keep an eye on Dorothy as he rocked Jamila. His daughter cried silently for several minutes until he felt her relaxing in his arms, and he realized that she had fallen asleep. But he continued to rock her, wondering what he could do to make things right. 

Dorothy had never felt so miserable in her entire life, even more so than when she realized that her mother didn't love her or when she discovered that Quatre was going to marry another woman. The sadness she felt at losing her baby even paled in comparison to how she felt now. She wanted something from Quatre that he didn't seem able to give. She loved him and he didn't even realize it. He wanted her for Jamila's sake, but at the moment, Dorothy didn't feel that she could stay with him, not even for Jamila. Some day he would meet a woman and fall in love, then Dorothy would have to endure the pain all over again. Quatre made no promises to her, gave her no reason to believe that he loved her. She didn't want the same empty marriage that her parents had.

By the time the storm had passed, Dorothy felt physically as miserable as she did emotionally. She watched the clouds drift away, and just as the first rays of the sun broke through, she heard a soft voice behind her.

"I'm sorry, Miss Dorothy."

Dorothy turned, and pushing her soaking, bedraggled hair from her eyes, she saw Jamila standing a few feet away. Her heart ached to see the uncertain look in her blue eyes, her defeated posture. Had she looked this way in the presence of her mother? Dorothy had wanted a better life for her own daughter, and yet she was deliberately putting distance between them. 

"I'm the one who should be saying that," Dorothy finally said. "I am sorry that I missed your tea party."

Jamila sniffled, and Dorothy turned away as she felt another wave of tears. She didn't want Jamila see her at the bottom of this pit she had fallen into. "I understand, Miss Dorothy."

Dorothy put her hands to her own face and tried to stop her tears. A four-year-old girl shouldn't be able to understand. 

She felt her small hands on her shoulders, then Jamila pressing her face against her back. "I want to call you Mama," she heard Jamila say, almost in a whisper as if she were afraid to say it.

The clouds had moved away and the sun was shining when Dorothy turned and brought Jamila around to sit in her lap. Her dress was sopping wet, but Jamila didn't seem to care as she put her arms around Dorothy's neck and pressed her face against her bosom. 

"You are angry at Papa," said Jamila softly. "Papa is very sad."

Dorothy held her close as she watched the sunlight shimmering on the water. "I wanted you very much, Jamila," she said as she ran her fingers through her silky hair. "When you were inside me, I made so many plans, had so many dreams for our future." It wasn't fair that greedy, selfish people had wrenched her life away from her.

Jamila looked up at her, her eyes wide with wonder. "I was inside you?"

Dorothy couldn't help smiling. "That is where babies are when they are first growing."

"If I have a brother or a sister, will it be inside you too?"

She wasn't quite sure how to answer that question considering the state her relationship with Quatre was in. After what had happened on the jet and the fact that her birth control had worn off months ago, she could already be pregnant again. The thought actually gave her a warm feeling although she chose to attribute it to the warmth from the sun. She couldn't possibly be so foolish as to want to have another tie to Quatre Winner, could she?

"We will have to wait and see," she finally told Jamila who was patiently waiting for her answer. 

"Are you going to stay with us?" asked Jamila shyly as if she feared the answer.

Ten minutes ago Dorothy knew the answer, but holding Jamila in her arms now, she wasn't sure. Rather than answer, she said, "We are all wet. Maybe you should get a bathing suit on and we can swim."

"I don't have a bathing suit. Mrs. Brown didn't pack me any clothes. Rashid said I could get some later." 

"Well, I guess we'll have to go shopping." Putting Jamila on the ground, she stood, then reached down to pull her up and prop her on her hip as she walked back to the verandah. "I noticed a shop for little girls on the way here." Dorothy hadn't wanted to notice it, but she had and thought of Jamila when she did. "We will tell your father; perhaps he will want to come with us." More than likely it would be just to make sure she didn't run away with his daughter.

"Papa is sleeping," Jamila told her.

Dorothy decided not to wake him, so she quietly took one of the bags of clothing, and after changing out of the wet clothing she had first put on many hours ago in Monte Carlo and combing through her hair, she went through Quatre's briefcase to find her own money. He had left the keys to his car on the table. If he had really wanted to keep her from running away, he should have been a little more careful. Jamila seemed to think of sneaking around as a game, so she didn't say anything to alert her father and they were able to leave without him waking.

There was no other vehicle so she had no choice but to drive Quatre's new toy. On the way to town, Jamila complained as much about Dorothy's slow driving as Dorothy did about Quatre's choice in cars. Dorothy could drive just as fast and recklessly as Quatre, but she certainly wasn't going to do that with Jamila in the front seat of what amounted to a professional racecar. Her first stop was not the boutique, but a hotel on the edge of town, and she asked the desk clerk if Rashid were staying there. When she discovered that he was, she requested that the clerk to call him down to meet her.

Rashid was both surprised and obviously anxious to see her alone with Jamila. "Miss Dorothy? Are you going somewhere?"

She frowned at him. "A boutique up the street. Jamila doesn't have any clothing."

"Does Master Quatre know you are here?"

"Papa is sleeping," Jamila announced.

Dorothy smiled at Rashid's discomfiture. "I suppose I shouldn't have left him alone," she commented aloud. 

"He would be more concerned about Missy Jamila's safety." Obviously Rashid was afraid Dorothy was kidnapping her daughter.

"We are going shopping, and afterwards we are returning to the beach house where we hope to swim for a bit. I was going to invite you and your gun to go shopping with us." Although the trouble on L4 was over, Jamila was still an attractive target for kidnapping. "And your car," she added as an afterthought.

Relieved that Dorothy had innocent motives for being with Jamila, Rashid didn't hesitate in joining them. He seemed to be quite at home watching them shop. As Jamila picked out clothing, Rashid told Dorothy that Sadirah usually selected all of Jamila's things and that he had seen Sadirah deliberately refuse anything that Jamila wanted. Dorothy guessed that Sadirah was trying to drive any spirit out of the girl she had claimed as a daughter. While Dorothy did choose most of Jamila's clothing, she also allowed Jamila to choose some of her own although she had guided her choices with just the right comments. Only one extremely ugly hat with huge plastic flowers slipped by and Dorothy guessed that Jamila was testing her. Jamila insisted on wearing it immediately. Although it was hideous, Dorothy thought Jamila was adorable in it. Their next stop was the same shop she had visited earlier when she had purchased clothing that she would rather not wear in front of Jamila. This time she let Jamila help her shop, and left sometime later with a suitable wardrobe for the time she would be on the island.

After shopping, they stopped at an ice cream parlor where Dorothy purchased cones for the three of them, then she asked Rashid to drive them back to the beach house in the luxury sedan. Quatre could get the Ferrari back later, that is, if no one mistook the keys being left in the ignition of the unlocked car with its top down as an invitation to borrow it indefinitely. Rashid didn't comment although Dorothy thought she heard him chuckle as they drove away. Jamila waved good-bye to the car.

When they arrived back at the beach house, the door banged open almost immediately and Quatre stood in the doorway. Dorothy would characterize him as a wild man in a panic until his gaze fell on Jamila and he was visibly relieved. 

"Where have you been?" he asked hoarsely.

"Shopping," chirped Jamila as she took the small bag that Dorothy handed her. "I got a swimsuit."

Dorothy pulled a few other bags out and handed some to Rashid. "I bought myself a swimsuit too." She was almost amused to see Quatre blush. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped aside to let them pass into the house, and Dorothy heard him question Rashid about his car. Dorothy was glad that her back was to him so that he couldn't see her smile when he asked Rashid to drive him into town to get it. Dorothy and Jamila were already on the beach when she saw him appear on the verandah. As Jamila dug in the sand near the shore, Dorothy stretched out on a towel. If Quatre had any objection to her modest one-piece bathing suit, he didn't say so when he had come to stand over her. 

"My car is gone," he announced with a perplexed frown.

Dorothy lowered her sunglasses to look at him over the rims. "Sorry. I guess I was careless." She pushed her sunglasses back up so he couldn't see the amusement in her eyes as she struggled not to smile.

"I suppose it will turn up." He fell silent. Dorothy guessed that he didn't know how to take her sudden change in mood. After her earlier outburst, he didn't know where he stood in her life. Dorothy didn't really know either.

Quatre looked away from her to watch Jamila and Dorothy followed his gaze to see her drag a plastic bucket of water from the shore to her sloppy castle. She dumped the water into the moat she had created, then stomped her foot in frustration when the water splashed over and dissolved the castle. Throwing down the bucket, she sat in the middle of the mess she had made and attempted to make a new castle.

"I think she needs some help," remarked Dorothy. "Do you know anything about sand castle construction?"

"I suppose I could give her a few pointers." He wasn't dressed for the beach, and Dorothy recalled that he didn't have any suitcases of clothing to take from the jet. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks and rolled up his tailored trousers, then walked away unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall on the sand. As he pulled off his undershirt, she lowered her sunglasses to watch him and wondered when he had time to work on sculpting his body. When she realized that she was ogling him, she pushed her glasses up and turned quickly onto her belly. There was enough heat from the tropical sun without starting a fire from the inside, especially when he knew how to work it to his advantage.

Listening to Quatre and Jamila speaking Arabic, she soon grew frustrated because she couldn't understand a word, then bored before she dozed off for some badly needed rest. Suddenly she was shocked awake by a dousing of water, and sitting up, gasping, she saw Jamila dash away giggling, swinging her plastic bucket. She looked over her shoulder and stumbled over the elaborate castle Quatre must have created while Dorothy slept. Dorothy took advantage of her accident to hop up and hurry to grab her before she could regain her footing. Jamila shrieked as Dorothy swung her up and splashed into the water, then dropped her. When she surfaced, Jamila was laughing.

Dorothy felt so much at peace splashing about in the water with her daughter, that she was afraid she was dreaming. But turning around to look toward the house, she saw Quatre sitting at the table on the verandah paging through papers. His blond head raised and their gazes locked for a moment. That uncertain look in his eyes was part of no dream. 

Jamila tugging on her hand made her looked away. "I'm cold." She stood shivering in the water, hugging herself. 

Dorothy led her from the water, snatched up her towel from the sand and shook it out before wrapping Jamila in it. "Let's take a shower and dress for dinner. Do you think your father can cook?"

Jamila chattered as much as she giggled. "Silly, Mama. We have a cook."

Her information proved to be correct. By the time they had showered and changed into dresses, the table had been set with a full meal, probably by the same phantom servant she had glimpsed five years ago. Quatre must have had some clothing left in the closet from another visit because he was wearing a casual, loose shirt and pants in the style of his colony. He glanced briefly at Dorothy, but he went to Jamila first to pick her up. 

"You look lovely," he said after kissing her cheeks. She was wearing a simple blue sleeveless dress with sandals, far from the frilly, fancy dresses that Sadirah Barak had dressed her in as if she were a doll. And Dorothy's silk flower print blouse and skirt didn't match her daughter's at all. 

"I like my new clothes," Jamila told him. "I picked them all."

Dorothy turned her head as she smiled about her fib. She noticed the bouquet of white roses and candles on the table as well as a bottle of wine. All was right in the world in Quatre Winner's mind. He'd gained a mother for his daughter and now he was setting out to get a woman in his bed. She had no intention of being that easy.

"The flowers are pretty, aren't they Mama?" Jamila asked after Quatre had pushed in her chair. 

He headed toward Dorothy, but she pulled out her own chair and sat before he could get around the table to her. "They are very pretty, Jamila." 

Without missing a beat, Quatre picked up the bottle of wine. "Would you like a glass of wine, Miss Dorothy?"

"Can I have some?" asked Jamila as she held up her glass.

"I'll pass on the wine," Dorothy responded to him, then looked at Jamila. "I don't think that you are allowed to drink wine." 

"Miss Dorothy is right." He put the bottle down and took the seat opposite Dorothy at the table. Jamila sat on the side between them. By her huge smiles as she looked from her father to Dorothy and back again, she was in heaven. Dorothy didn't do or say anything to spoil the evening for Jamila although her thoughts often drifted to the past when Quatre had so artfully seduced her. With hindsight, she could marvel at her own naiveté, but she knew deep inside that she had wanted what he had been offering. But she was on guard tonight. What happened on the jet was a mistake that she shouldn't repeat.

When the meal came to an end, Rashid emerged from the shadows to take a yawning Jamila to her bed, but before she left, she threw her arms around Dorothy and held her tight. Dorothy sensed that Jamila was afraid she would disappear and she deeply regretted the pain she had put her through. After kissing the top of her head, she whispered in her ear that she would see her later. 

Quatre didn't say anything until she had been gone for several minutes. The sun had set while they were eating, and with the only light from the stars and the candles, Dorothy steeled herself against any smooth talk that would pave a path to his bed.

"I've never seen Jamila so happy," he began.

"Did Sadirah Barak name her?" interrupted Dorothy. 

He seemed taken aback by her abrupt question, but after just a slight hesitation he answered. "Sadirah didn't name her. Jamila was three months old before I first saw her, and I gave her the name."

Dorothy was glad because if Sadirah had named her she would insist that her name be changed. She wanted to erase anything connected with Sadirah Barak. Dorothy already knew she would have to work hard to make Jamila trust her as a mother, especially after the horrible experience she lived through with the only mother she had known. "I want to spend more time with her."

"I think it would be good for her." For several moments he didn't say anything and Dorothy wished she hadn't refused a glass of wine. She could certainly use one now, as the tension between them grew tighter. Then he said, "I'd like you to be part of her life, a permanent part of her life."

She guessed the point he was trying to make, but the route he was taking gave her a sick feeling inside. "I am her mother. I am already a permanent part of her life."

"I think we should get married."

Dorothy stared at him through the flickering candlelight. "Is that a proposal, Mr. Winner?" If the dishes hadn't been cleared from the table, she probably would have flung her plate at him. How could he say something so casually as if he were hiring her for the position of nanny?

He shifted in his chair then asked, "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Yes," she answered. "I do mind." If she couldn't have a glass of wine - and she was too proud to get one now - then she didn't want to see him light up a cigar that was probably laced with hashish. "You didn't answer my question. Am I required to make a response to your suggestion?" She was trying not to let her temper rise. 

"I would like for us to be a family," he said by way of explanation.

"We don't have to marry for us to be a family," she pointed out. If he loved her, he would say so now. 

But he didn't. "I don't want that kind of loose family tie."

She felt pain in her chest. "I see. Well, I suppose we could marry." He seemed relieved until she added, "But I have some conditions."

"Conditions?" He sounded confused. 

"Given the state of our relationship, I don't think it is fair to bring another child into this situation." She forced herself to give him the terms that were most repugnant to her. If he agreed, then she was doomed to the same miserable marriage as her parents. "I'll marry you, but I will be your wife only in public."

Quatre's brows drew together. "That is not acceptable."

Dorothy stood. "That is my last offer." If he didn't say something to give her hope, then she would have to realize that he didn't love her.

They stared at each other in silence, and then Quatre pulled out his golden cigar case, pulled one out, and as he flipped open the lighter, he said, "I guess we are at an impasse." He snapped the case shut.

"Not at all," she said, looking at him through the haze of his smoke. "I never said that I wanted to marry you."

"Will you at least spend the week here? I won't force my presence on you. I have properties to check on so I will be busy."

"While you are gone, I'd like you to think about letting me take Jamila for a few months." 

Quatre sighed as he blew out smoke from his cigar. "Is this how our life is going to be?"

"_We_ don't have a life. _I_ have a life and _you_ have a life. Jamila will have a place in both." 

"I'm not going to argue about this. Do what you want." He threw down his cigar case and stalked off the verandah and down to the beach to smoke. 

Dorothy turned and headed into the beach house, but she almost bumped into a huge body and realized that Rashid had witnessed the entire exchange. She felt a little embarrassed although she realized that Rashid probably witnessed many of Quatre's personal moments.

"You are making a mistake," Rashid told her softly.

"I won't marry a man that doesn't love me." 

"He loves you."

If he did, he would say so, but he hadn't so what conclusion could she draw? She pushed past Rashid and went into the room she had occupied five years ago. Jamila was already sleeping in the bed, and since Dorothy felt restless, she kicked off her sandals and paced the dark room, then stopped at the window to stand at the edge to watch Quatre pace at the shore. The large, dark form she recognized as Rashid's approached him, and for several minutes they had an animated conversation that she couldn't hear because of the distance. Quatre ended it by throwing up his arms and walking away.

Dorothy left the window and put on the pajama top and shorts she had purchased on her second shopping trip, then slipped into bed with Jamila. As she lay in the dark, she kept alive the hope that he would come to her and tell her what she wanted to hear. But as minutes drifted into hours, she finally gave up and cuddled Jamila to her.

When she awoke in the morning, Quatre was already gone.


	23. Chapter 23

****

Chapter 23

Although it had been very difficult, Quatre let Jamila leave with Dorothy. True to his word, he had stayed away from the beach house for a week and did not go back until Rashid contacted him with a message from Dorothy informing him that she would like to return to her home with Jamila. He had considered refusing but realized that would be petty and probably hurt Jamila more than it would Dorothy. So he met them at the airport where they would be boarding his private jet to take them back to Europe. He didn't think his heart could ache any more when he parted from Jamila, but he was wrong. Standing with Dorothy after Jamila had settled in the jet as they casually discussed the details surrounding her stay, he felt as if cold blades sliced through his chest each time their gazes met and she looked away. After he agreed to take Jamila the weekend following her birthday in three months, Dorothy turned to leave and he almost reached out for her. But remembering her words and the impersonal argument they had the last time they were together, he remained rigid as he watched her climb the steps to the jet then disappear inside without a backward glance.

That was three months ago, three long months that he tried to fill with work by traveling from colony to colony and from one resource satellite to another trying to keep himself busy so that he could ignore the emptiness in his heart. The only bright spots during that time were the daily video messages that Jamila sent him, reporting on what she was doing, how much fun she was having, and especially how much she missed him. If Dorothy had just accepted his proposal, they could be living together instead of suffering apart. Then again, she had accepted his proposal under conditions that were similar to the conditions that Sadirah had set. At least Sadirah hadn't barred him from her bedroom although she had obviously found his attentions repugnant because of what had happened to her as a child. Dorothy was punishing him, and he would no longer take it when he had been as much a victim as she had. 

So he set out to prove to both him and her that she didn't have the control on his heart that she thought she did. He took beautiful, glamorous women out on extravagant dates that did not fail to attract the press. But when the light faded from their flash cameras, Quatre left the hopeful women at their doors with a gentlemanly goodnight and returned to his own bed alone and frustrated because he didn't want any woman but Dorothy Catalonia in his arms. One or two of the women gave outlandish stories of his prowess as a lover, probably to save face after failing to seduce him or to challenge him to prove the veracity of his claims. His reputation as a playboy had returned although he had done nothing to merit it. 

If his behavior bothered Dorothy, he had no evidence. The press had already linked them romantically, especially when the truth about Jamila became public, so he knew that Dorothy was nagged for comments about his personal behavior. Thus far she hadn't said anything beyond reminding the press that he was free to do as he pleased. Quatre couldn't help gleaning the media for any stories about her personal life, but beyond the unpleasant reminders of her past affairs with James Sheffield and Randolph Morrison, no scandalous behavior was attached to her name. The only mention he saw of her was the occasional story of her charitable work, which appeared on the society pages. 

There was one name, however, that appeared in tandem with hers more than once. The first time he had read about him accompanying her to a charity auction, he dismissed it outright, but the next time he saw a report about his escorting her to a dinner party at the presidential residence, Quatre felt suspicion poking at an old wound. Obviously the reporters for the society pages and those from the gossip rags didn't communicate or something more would have been made of the fact that Heero Yuy made the social rounds with her. Each time he saw their names together, he researched Relena Darlian's whereabouts and discovered that the vice-foreign minister was traveling on behalf of the Earth Sphere United Nation. How convenient for them! He was tempted to contact Relena about the situation, but he didn't want to look like a jealous fool.

Well, he was a jealous fool. Even now as he entered the dining room at the ambassador's residence on L4, he couldn't help but imagine Dorothy with James Sheffield although it had happened years ago and the man was now clearly happy with Hadya. 

"Quatre!" Hadya left her husband's side and came to take his hands, then kiss his cheeks. "I'm glad you could make it. I was afraid you would be too busy to attend."

"Too busy with work or with his women?" Despite her acid remark, Leila came to hug him. 

"I'm not busy with women," he grumbled. "At least not as busy as the press would like people to think."

"If you were that busy," said Sheffield as he reached out to shake his hand, "I doubt you could walk straight."

Quatre took his hand although he still felt uncomfortable being face to face with Dorothy's former lover. "I'm sure you've been the victim of just as many rumors."

"In his case they were probably true," said Hadya with a playful jab of her elbow in Sheffield's side.

"We only have Quatre's word that the stories about him aren't true," baited Leila. There was a twinkle in her eyes so he knew that she was teasing.

Ahmed came forward to shake Quatre's hand. "It's good of you to visit. I thought you might be headed to Earth. Leila told me that you will be bringing Jamila back to L4."

"I was on my way when I received your invitation," he told Hadya. "I used the opportunity to check on the changes I ordered for the residence." Specifically, wiping all traces of Sadirah Barak from his home, the pictures of her, her things, anything she changed put back the way it had been during his father's lifetime. He didn't want anything left to remind Jamila of that woman.

"We're just glad you could be here." Hadya reached out to take her husband's hand and she was beaming with happiness as she looked at the assembled group. "We have an announcement. We're having a baby!"

There was a general outburst of congratulations and hugs for the couple, and while Quatre was happy for his sister, he felt miserable for himself. Sitting through dinner with Hadya and Sheffield amounted to torture for Quatre as he often caught the smiles meant only for each other, the occasional squeezing of hands, the casual innocent touching that served to underscore the obvious love they felt for each other. 

When the meal concluded, they went to the salon where James helped himself to an after dinner drink while the women sat down together to talk about all things relating to babies. Quatre was about to excuse himself for the evening when Ahmed started talking about politics. The colony was slowly rebuilding under the competent guidance of Majid Al-Jazar. There were riots from time to time, which he managed to quell with the minimum amount of injury and the maximum amount of lenience. Majid championed the poor and voiceless as his charismatic brother had proclaimed to do but Mahmad was taking bribes to keep them under the heel of the powerful. Majid remained true to his ideals. Any followers of Barak's rebellion had no choice but to accept the new order on the colony. Quatre was glad that his instincts about Majid had proved to be correct, that he would be a great leader for his people. 

Soon the topic of conversation drifted towards the news announced earlier and Ahmed was giving Sheffield advice about children, of which he had three, so Quatre excused himself to have a cigar on the patio. 

Just as he was starting to feel more relaxed, Sheffield stepped out on the patio to join him. For a moment they did not speak, and Quatre lit himself another cigar while Sheffield sipped from his snifter of brandy. 

Finally the other man said, "You're not coming back here without her, are you?"

Quatre knew he wasn't talking about Jamila. "Sweeping her off her feet and carrying her away doesn't work anymore."

Sheffield chuckled. "I noticed that she was growing a backbone. I imagine that it's pretty rigid by now."

"I'd rather not discuss Dorothy Catalonia with you," stated Quatre with a glance at Sheffield. 

Shrugging, he sipped his brandy then said, "We can't change the past, and even though if may appear that we do not, we have some control over the future."

Quatre didn't feel as though had had control over anything at the moment.

"I can't believe that Dorothy would choose not to marry you. I know that this situation with Jamila would be abhorrent to her."

"It was her idea," Quatre told him without restraining his resentment. "I asked her to marry me, and she accepted only on the grounds that it would be for Jamila's sake only. She said that she didn't want us to have any more children."

The other man didn't respond for a moment as he swirled the liquid in his glass, then he said, "I think I would have taken that as a challenge."

"You don't understand the complexity of the situation."

"I do," Sheffield told him with a frown. "I was there when she needed a pair of strong arms to comfort her while she tried to heal. Had I known what had really happened to break her spirit, I wouldn't have given up so easy on trying to make her forget you." He took a sip of brandy. "Fortunately things worked out for me they way they have. I love Hadya more than I thought possible. If you have even half the feelings for Dorothy that I do for your sister, then I feel truly sorry for you that you cannot be with her."

Footsteps behind them made them both turn to see the others come onto the patio. "I wondered where you were!" exclaimed Hadya as she slipped an arm around Sheffield's waist and snuggled into the circle of his embrace. 

"Leave it to my brother to be standing around in the dark feeling sorry for himself as he gets high on hash," Leila remarked acidly.

"I'm not getting high," grumbled Quatre. There was so little hashish in his cigars that he would have to smoke at least a dozen before he began to feel anything more than the relaxing effect he was trying to achieve. At the moment the effect was quickly wearing off.

"I didn't hear you deny feeling sorry for yourself." Leila stared straight at him with the look she must have perfected from hours of watching the frowns of disapproval their father had reserved for him. 

Quatre glanced at Ahmed. "I see that you haven't found a way to curb her tongue."

His brother-in-law shrugged. "Sometimes she says things the rest of us would like to."

"And the rest of us are wondering why you haven't married Jamila's mother," said Hadya.

"She won't marry me," Quatre told them.

"I don't understand why not." Hadya was resting her head on Sheffield's shoulder as she looked at him. "Doesn't she love you?"

"That's ridiculous!" Sheffield snorted derisively. "Dorothy is so much in love with him that she can't think straight."

"I'd think you would have felt it," stated Leila, alluding to his faint empathic abilities.

"I can't seem to read her feelings," Quatre admitted. He often felt the emotions of others, but Dorothy's were blank to him. He had to rely on her words and actions, and at the moment he could make no sense of them.

"Even I don't need to be empathic to understand her feelings." Leila folded her arms over her chest. "From everything I know, you've been a complete ass with her. I cannot even imagine why she clings to her feelings for you, but she does. I could see it in her eyes when I tried to spook her away from you. She was more concerned for you and Jamila than she was for herself. Whatever problem the two of you can't work out is coming from you."

"Maybe he doesn't love her," suggested Hadya shyly. "Maybe she is just the woman who happens to be Jamila's mother."

"I didn't say that I didn't love her." Quatre was not appreciating their personal attack.

"I didn't hear you say that you did love her," remarked Sheffield.

"I think we all heard him say it," spoke up Ahmed. "On the day the two of you married, the day the treaty was signed."

"The day Dorothy Catalonia ran away," added Leila. She raised a brow as she looked at Quatre. "I don't suppose you bothered to tell her how you feel."

"She knows how I feel," Quatre snapped defensively. Then he added uncertainly, "At least she should know how I feel."

"This is a classic problem in diplomacy," said Sheffield. "There is a complete breakdown of communication. You claim to not know her feelings although the rest of us are in complete agreement that she couldn't love you any more than she does. And then you turn around and say that she has developed mind-reading skills so that she knows how you feel. Have you ever told her how you feel?"

He had told her. He must have told her! Couldn't she feel it each time he touched her? Was it possible that she was receiving the same muddled signals from his words and actions that he was from hers?

"I think we have an answer to our question," commented Leila when he didn't respond. 

"I don't need to be a diplomat to know the solution to this problem," said Hadya. "No woman wants to feel like she's being used. You don't have anything to give her that she doesn't already have, Quatre, except your love."

"What if she doesn't love me anymore?" He didn't mean to voice his worst fear.

"You're going to have to take that chance," Sheffield told him.

"You have nothing to lose," added Ahmed.

A little pride and a big chunk of his heart, thought Quatre. 

He was glad now that he had stopped to visit the sisters that lived on L4. Given the nature of their birth, he supposed that he had never really considered them a family. Now he made it a point that he would become acquainted with each of the twenty-six other sisters scattered throughout the colonies and on Earth.

Before leaving L4 he was asked by Majid Al-Jazar to escort his niece back to L3 as she had been home on a vacation. Quatre had no objection until Yaminah Al-Jazar had boarded the Winner Corporation space shuttle. Almost a year at the university had changed the girl in more ways than one. She had been pretty before, but she had blossomed into the kind of sensually attractive young woman that he would prefer to steer clear of. Yaminah thanked him for the favor, and by the look in her dark eyes, she would do just about anything to return it. The flight was going to take at least twelve hours, and he didn't relish the idea of being trapped on the luxury shuttle with her, two pilots and a male flight attendant who discreetly disappeared shortly after take off.

Quatre made polite conversation by asking her about school, hoping to find some neutral ground between them. She remarked that the work was challenging and time-consuming, that she enjoyed her break from it immensely. By her tone, the glamour of becoming a doctor had hit the reality of the work that it required and she was no longer as enthusiastic as she had once been. When she fell silent, it wasn't the uncomfortable silence of a year ago when she was too shy to express herself. It was the kind of silence that drove Quatre to pull out his computer and excuse himself to sit at his desk after informing her that he had work to catch up on so that he could avoid her bold gaze. He was safer putting some distance between them or he was going to be forced to acknowledge her frank sexual interest one way or another. He preferred not to embarrass her by turning down the obvious invitation in her dark eyes, so he ignored her although she shifted many times on the plush chair to attract his attention to her shapely form. He was relieved when she put the chair back and fell asleep.

Deeming it safer than sitting in a chair, Quatre remained at the desk catching up on some business correspondence, then checking his personal mail. He was delighted to find a message from Jamila to take his mind off his present awkward situation.

"Hi, Papa!" She was smiling at him. He noted by the time of the message that she had sent it several hours earlier. "Don't forget my birthday party! It is in three days! I'm going to be five years old! I'm having a party with lots of my new friends at the playground. There is going to be cake and ice cream and balloons and clowns!"

Quatre was startled to realize that Jamila had never had a birthday party. He did recall formal gatherings at the Winner residence on L4 to mark the occasion, but they usually had little to do with Jamila and a lot to do with Hassan Barak's political projects. In hindsight Quatre realized that Barak had used the occasions to gather his allies for summit meetings while he had naively celebrated Jamila's birthday.

"Don't forget!" Jamila blew him a kiss, then she disappeared from view. He expected the screen to go blank, but suddenly Dorothy took Jamila's place. She looked tired and pale, and if he were actually speaking to her, he might have scolded her about keeping late hours with Heero Yuy. 

"This means a lot to Jamila," she told him, her voice cool and calm. "She is expecting you to be there, and if you are not, even if _she_ can forgive you, _I _will not."

The screen went blank from his end, and he looked up to see that Yaminah was leaning against the edge of the desk. She removed her finger from the power button on his computer. "Was that the woman you chose over me?"

Without responding to her sarcastic question, Quatre raised his head to look at her. "You should return to your seat."

She shook out her dark hair and raised her hand to begin unbuttoning her blouse. "I've learned a lot on L3."

Quatre knew she wasn't talking about learning requiring the taking of notes. "Does your uncle know the extent of your education?" Quatre could already see the headlines after this shuttle flight. "Your behavior reflects on him."

Yaminah undid the front hook on her lacy bra and leaned forward, but he kept his eyes away from what she wanted to see. While there was no doubt in his mind that she had learned enough tricks to keep them busy until reaching L3, Quatre was not aroused. 

"I've read all about what you have been up to. Why not take what I am offering?" She reached out to take his hand and put it on her leg, then guided it upward under her skirt. "Only you and I would know."

Quatre snatched his hand away and resisted the urge to slap her face. "Go back to your seat now. If you are lucky I will not to inform your uncle of your behavior, because if I do, he won't hesitate to return you to L4 and put an end to your extracurricular studies." 

Glaring at him with her lips compressed, she slid off the edge of the desk and pushed down her skirt. "You will regret this."

"I already do," he assured her. And she would regret it even more.

The headlines beat him to Earth. When he left the shuttle photographers and reporters besieged him demanding a comment on Yaminah Al-Jazar's claim that he had taken advantage of her. Quatre ignored them but was delayed by the crowd until his bodyguards finally muscled the press away and escorted him to a waiting limousine. Telling reporters that Yaminah was a vindictive liar wasn't going to change anything because they would rather believe the lies. He had contacted Majid immediately after leaving Yaminah at the shuttle port on L3 to inform him of her behavior. Yaminah's uncle had apologized profusely, then contacted Quatre later when the story hit the press begging forgiveness for her disgraceful behavior. By the time Quatre reached Earth, Yaminah had already been placed on a shuttle to return to L4 where she was probably going to receive a punishment she would not soon forget before she was handed over to a husband not of her choosing. Regardless, the damage was already done to Quatre's reputation. 

Noting the time, he realized that he was going to be late for Jamila's party. Quatre felt a tension headache beginning as he imagined Dorothy's anger. How could he tell her how he felt if she were fuming about his missing Jamila's party, especially after this nasty business Yaminah? What woman in her right mind would give him another chance? When the car passed a flower shop, he ordered the driver to turn back and he purchased a large bouquet of red roses. They weren't as pretty as the roses Dorothy grew in her garden, but he hoped they would convey some meaning to her.

When the limousine pulled onto the residential block where Dorothy lived, it had to stop because the streets were blocked off all around the park. Quatre saw that the run-down little playground was brightly decorated with streamers and balloons, and that clowns were strolling among the children entertaining them. There must have been dozens of children, and he wondered how he would find Jamila when he climbed out holding the roses. He looked over the crowd hoping to catch a glimpse of Dorothy, but he did not see her among the adults clustered together talking as they kept an eye on the children.

"Papa!"

The little body careened into him almost knocking him from his feet. Quatre looked down to see Jamila hugging his leg, and as he lifted her up to kiss her, he was afraid that he would see Dorothy standing back glaring at him. But he found Rashid was watching him with a smile instead.

"Welcome, Master Quatre. We were afraid that you wouldn't make it."

"I knew you would be here!" Jamila hugged him so tightly around the neck that he couldn't breathe for a moment. When she released him he drew in a breath.

"I'm sorry I am late," he told his daughter.

"You're not late," she said with a giggle. "I haven't had cake yet, and I have presents to hand out."

"Presents to hand out?" He glanced at Rashid.

"Many of the children are from an orphanage," he explained. "Missy Jamila is giving them gifts on her special day."

Leave it to Dorothy to use the occasion to further the cause of the new Romefeller Foundation. Quatre glanced around uneasily expecting the press to be waiting to pounce on him.

Rashid guessed his fear. "Pictures were taken earlier and the photographers were sent away so that we could celebrate in private."

Quatre looked over the crowd one more time, wondering why Dorothy hadn't come to greet him before turning his attention to Rashid. "Where is Miss Dorothy?"

"Mama went back home for a little while to lay down with Heero," announced Jamila.

Quatre looked quickly to Rashid whose face was burning red. "I think I should go say hello to them." 

Before he could give Rashid a chance to explain, Quatre pushed Jamila into Rashid's arms and stalked through the children, ignoring the speculative looks on the adult's faces as he headed to the house where Dorothy lived. A few of the roses suffered from his swift gait, but by the time he reached the wrought iron security gate that was standing wide open, he realized what a fool he was being. Jamila didn't realize what she had said, that the order of her wording had given him her announcement completely different meaning. If Dorothy had arranged the party, then she was probably exhausted. Heero was being a gentleman in accompanying her back to her house for some peace and quiet.

He expected to find them sitting in the deserted living room, and when he didn't, Quatre couldn't help the suspicion that snaked through him. Tossing the bouquet of roses on the sofa, he quietly mounted the steps, but he stopped near the top when he heard their voices coming from her bedroom.

"You have got to tell Quatre, because if you don't, I will." Heero's voice sounded both frustrated and annoyed.

Quatre would have confronted them at that moment, but Dorothy's voice stopped him. "Don't you dare tell him before I have a chance! And don't tell Relena until I have spoken with Quatre."

"She is going to be furious," remarked Heero.

"I don't care! She'll just run to him at the first opportunity before I have a chance to talk to him. It's going to be shock enough as it is." Quatre heard Dorothy moan softly, and he fell back a few steps as he imagined what was happening in her bedroom. He wanted to barge in and beat Heero to a bloody pulp, but he couldn't make his feet move forward. If this was what Dorothy wanted, then who was he to stand in the way? Besides, if he caused a scene, it would ruin Jamila's special day. He would just have to wait until Dorothy told him her news, and in the meantime, he would prepare himself to hear the words she would use to inform him that she was marrying Heero Yuy.

Dorothy stumbled weakly from the bathroom where she had gone another round with the toilet close and personal as she heaved what was left that she hadn't vomited earlier when she hurried back to the house with Heero Yuy hot on her heels. Now he was standing at her window peering through the crack in her curtains.

"Are you spying?" she asked as she flopped on the bed and laid back as she waited for the waves of dizziness to pass. If it didn't soon she was going to have to head back to the bathroom.

He didn't take his eyes from the curtain. "I think I see Quatre Raberba Winner's limo. At least I'm reasonably sure it's his by the thugs standing around armed to the teeth. Do you think they're protecting him from danger or teenage virgins from him?"

Dorothy rolled on the bed to glare at him. "Did you have to bring that up?" She felt sick to her stomach again as she thought of the scandalous news story from L3 concerning Quatre's alleged seduction of Yaminah Al-Jazar. The girl made a convincing story dressed in a starched white blouse and prim ankle length skirt as she talked to reporters, but Dorothy had a hard time believing Quatre would be so stupid. The other women linked to his name, well, she just had to accept the fact that their separation was her choice and he was free to do as he pleased. And according to the press, he had done a lot of pleasing of himself.

"I see him with Jamila now," Heero told her, turning away from the window. "When are you going to tell him?"

"When I am damn good and ready!" She tried to sit up but had to lie down again. "I don't remember feeling this awful when I was pregnant with Jamila."

"I thought pregnant women were supposed to glow." Heero was looking at her with a frown. "You're a putrid green color."

"Thank you very much!" If she could move she would chuck her pillow at him. "Make yourself useful and get me a glass of water."

By the time he returned from the bathroom with the water, she had managed to pull herself to a sitting position. She sipped the water slowly and when her stomach had settled she rose unsteadily to her feet. "I don't know how I'm going to make it through today."

"By gritting your teeth and puking in the bushes," said Heero as he slipped an arm around her waist. "I'll help you down the steps."

Dorothy didn't refuse his help, but by the time she reached the bottom, she felt composed enough to shake him off and stop at a hall mirror where she ran her fingers through her hair and touched up her make-up. There were dark circles under her eyes and the comment Heero had made about her coloring didn't do justice to how wan and sickly she looked. 

Turning around, she saw Heero holding a droopy bouquet of roses.

"Mr. Winner must have stopped by already."

She crossed the room and took the card he held out to her. At first she thought the roses might be for Jamila, but her name was written on the envelope. Slipping it open, she pulled the small card and when she read the message she felt moved to tears.

__

This is your special day as much as it is Jamila's.

Thank you for the gift of our daughter.

Quatre

Heero plucked the card from her hand before she could react, then tossed a handkerchief to her to dab away her tears. When she was finished sniffling, he said, "You had better put on some more makeup. You look like you have allergies."

After she did as he suggested and she didn't look much better than she had before, she left the house with Heero to return to the playground. Dorothy had hoped this period of morning sickness would be gone by Jamila's birthday, but she was suffering worse this day than any other day thus far. She suspected that it had to do with the fact that Quatre was here and she had the unpleasant task of telling him that she was pregnant. Dorothy just didn't think her life could become more tangled. 

She spotted him immediately sitting cross-legged on the grass with Jamila in his lap watching a pair of clowns do a magic routine. Jamila clapped with delight when she was presented with a bouquet of tissue flowers the clown had pulled from behind her ear, and Dorothy felt her heart turn over to see Quatre smiling proudly down at his daughter.

"You're not going to need another handkerchief, are you?" asked Heero under his breath. "You're getting that watery look in your eyes and I don't carry more than one."

Dorothy bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering, and she couldn't speak as she shook her head. Hormones, she told herself. This would pass.

When the clowns finished their show, Jamila announced that it was time to open presents and the children dashed to the carefully constructed pyramid of gifts Dorothy arranged to have delivered for the children. Jamila had helped her choose the gifts at the toy store, and now she stood back with delight watching them tear through the paper wrapping.

Quatre watched for a moment until one of the clowns approached him and he suddenly threw his arms around him. They stood at arm's length talking and Dorothy waited a moment before Heero bumped her to move forward.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered.

Dorothy came to them, but she spoke to the clown first, holding out her hand and smiling as he raised it to his lips. "That was a wonderful show, Mr. Barton. Jamila loved it."

"I'm just glad that I could be of assistance in helping her celebrate her birthday," said Trowa Barton, his green eyes resting on her for a moment, then turning back to Quatre. The last time the three of them had been together, she had just skewered Quatre through the chest with a saber and Trowa had helped him escape the Libra. He was probably wondering how they managed to create the perfect angel that was flitting about the boys and girls to exclaim with surprise over their gifts. 

"Relena Darlian paid me a visit while the circus was performing on L2 several weeks ago," said Trowa. "She asked if I would have time to entertain at this party."

"I'm glad you did," Quatre said. "I haven't seen you in a long time."

Trowa raised a brow, glanced at Dorothy and back to Quatre and added, "A very long time."

Heero cleared his throat. "You've done quite a bit of traveling. Maybe you could answer a few questions for me about the state of peace on the colonies from the common man's perspective."

Trowa seemed perplexed for a moment by Heero's interruption and Dorothy wanted to kick Heero for his thinly veiled excuse to give her a moment alone with Quatre. But Trowa seemed to understand and he looked at Quatre. "You and I should get together before I have to leave again. I don't want another five years to fly by before we have a chance to catch up. Are you attending the president's ball tonight? Maybe we can talk there. I have the honor of escorting Relena Darlian."

An uncomfortable moment of silence ensued before Quatre looked at Heero. "Will you be working security tonight?"

"I have the night off," he said and left it at that.

Dorothy felt the tension between the two men, and she frowned at Heero before looking at Quatre. "I didn't know what your plans were, so I made arrangements to attend with Heero."

Heero put a hand on Trowa's shoulder. "Let's go watch the kids. Maybe you could make some balloon animals."

"I don't do balloon animals," Dorothy heard Trowa say as they walked away.

Dorothy stood with Quatre for a moment, both watching Jamila and not saying a word, then Quatre remarked, "I had almost given up hope that she could have this kind of life."

"But she misses you," Dorothy said with a sigh.

Quatre turned slowly to look at her. "She will miss you when we return to L4."

Dorothy fought the tears that threatened to crash over her lashes as she imagined her own loneliness when Jamila left. Instead, she changed the subject. "Thank you for the roses."

He didn't say anything as he looked away, but he wasn't watching Jamila. His gaze followed Heero Yuy. "I hadn't made any plans for the ball." His blue eyes fell on her with accusation that made her feel guilty.

"You shouldn't have any trouble finding a date," she said sharply.

"No, I shouldn't."

Dorothy took a breath to calm her nerves then said, "We shouldn't be arguing today."

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his casual pants. "No, we shouldn't." He didn't say anything more.

There was probably no good time to tell him that he was going to be a father again, but now she certainly couldn't do it although an inner voice was urging her to do so. She decided, for once, to listen to that voice. After working up the courage, she took a breath and said, "There is something I need to tell you."

"I already know," he interrupted her, his voice sharp as he looked at her. 

"You know?" she was surprised and relieved, and yet she expected a different reaction from him than this restrained anger.

"I overheard you talking to Heero Yuy."

"Oh." That explained the roses left at her house. "I know this changes things between us..."

"I'd say so!" 

Dorothy frowned. "I was hoping you would be pleased."

"Pleased?" He was talking through gritted teeth now. "What makes you think it would please me?" He threw up his arms and stalked away to where Jamila was standing. Pulling her up, he said something to her, kissed her cheeks, and then marched away to his limousine, signaling to his guards to follow.

Jamila stumbled to Dorothy, and Dorothy realized that she must have been wearing the same stricken expression as her daughter as they watched the limousine drive away. She didn't know which of them burst into tears first, but they were hugging each other when Heero returned without Trowa Barton.

"What the hell did you say to him?" asked Heero with annoyance.

"I told him," she answered between sobs. "He's angry!"

Heero was openly surprised. "I suppose a baby can put a crimp in his lifestyle. Kind of hard to bang a super model with an infant bawling in the next room."

"Go to hell!" 

Heero chuckled as he put an arm around her shoulders. "I sent Trowa to talk to him. He'll find out what's bothering that horse's backside." He chucked Jamila under the chin. "Don't cry. Your Papa is probably tired from his trip through space. He made good time getting here as it was."

Sniffling, Jamila wiped her eyes. "He said he would see me tomorrow."

"You should be enjoying yourself with your new friends."

She bravely left them behind to return to her party. Dorothy steamed now with anger that Quatre could be so cruel to Jamila as to leave her in the middle of her party. Late afternoon the party came to an end shortly after Relena arrived with another truckload of gifts for the children to return to the orphanage with. Jamila was so exhausted that she fell deeply asleep on the couch and Dorothy doubted she would awake before morning. Heero carried her up to her bedroom and gently laid her on the bed so that she wouldn't wake. Dorothy hoped her daughter remembered that Dorothy was going out that evening so that in case she awoke she would be worried finding her gone. Dorothy had already made arrangements for the housekeeper to stay the night because Dorothy was sure she wouldn't be getting in until late. 

When everyone was finally gone except Relena and Heero, Dorothy collapsed on the sofa and realized the roses Quatre had given her had not been put in water and were now limp. Angry, Dorothy threw the bouquet across the room to slam against the wall wishing it were Quatre Winner.

"Well," commented Relena as the roses fell in a broken heap on the floor, "I feel sorry for that suitor."

Pulling the card from his pocket, Heero flicked it to Relena. Dorothy was irked that he had kept it. 

"How sweet!" exclaimed Relena after reading the message.

Dorothy snatched the card and tore it into many pieces before chucking the confetti at Relena. 

Wiping away the mess, Relena looked curiously from Heero to Dorothy. "I think I'm missing something here."

"He's a bastard!" snapped Dorothy angrily. 

"Because he bailed out on Jamila's party? Well, maybe that was somewhat cold-hearted, but I can't believe Quatre did such a thing without a good reason."

Dorothy was about to give her several good reasons to call Quatre any number of names when Heero's cell phone rang, and she waited as he took the call, grunting to most of the conversation on the other end. When he snapped the phone shut, he was smirking.

"Well?" demanded Dorothy. "Was that Trowa Barton?"

"They had lunch together and Winner spilled his guts. I know you're not going to think this is funny, Dorothy, but I think it's damn hilarious."

"I can't wait to hear it," grumbled Dorothy.

Relena put up her hand. "Just a minute! I want to be caught up. What is going on?"

"Dorothy is pregnant," announced Heero before Dorothy could answer. "Winner knocked her up again."

"What a nice way of putting it," murmured Dorothy with embarrassment.

"Satisfy my curiosity," started Heero as he leaned toward her. "Did he do it while you were in a drugged stupor in Monte Carlo?"

"Heero!" Relena glared at him, then looked at Dorothy with her brows raised in question.

Dorothy felt her face heating up, and then she blurted. "No! It happened on the way to Barbados when I was fully conscious, fully participating and fully enjoying it!"

"I thought he flew the jet there," commented Heero thoughtfully. "How…?" Dorothy could see that he was trying to imagine them having sex in the cockpit of his private jet.

"What did Trowa Barton say?" asked Dorothy to steer the conversation away from its present subject.

"Why didn't you tell me about your condition?" Relena sounded hurt. "You told Heero before you told me? You told Heero before you told Quatre?!"

"I didn't tell him a damn thing!" Dorothy was getting a headache. "He guessed. He's not as stupid as he looks."

Relena didn't seem to believe her, but Dorothy wasn't going to spend any more time soothing her hurt feelings. "Are you going to tell me what Trowa Barton said?" she demanded of Heero.

"Did you actually tell Winner that you are pregnant?"

Dorothy frowned. "He…he said he overheard us talking!"

"I don't know what he overheard, but whatever we said was enough to convince him that you and I are planning to get married."

"What?" Dorothy was torn between shouting in frustration and laughing. "How could he get such a stupid notion?"

Heero chuckled. "I guess he's been keeping tabs on you and has seen how many times we've been together lately."

"He has lost his mind! Doesn't he realize that you may have been assigned to protect me? My association with him has made me a target for the same lunatics that he fears!"

Relena sighed. "I knew we shouldn't have done this undercover bodyguard act again. It causes nothing but trouble. Well, the last time we did it on L4, Hadya Winner and James Sheffield ended up married. Maybe this time…" She looked at Dorothy speculatively.

"I wouldn't marry that idiot if he were the last man on Earth!" 

"He was angry enough to leave Jamila's party," commented Relena. "I think he's deeply hurt because he's in love with you and he can't stand the thought of you marrying Heero."

"I can't stand the thought of marrying Heero," grumbled Dorothy, then she asked with all her pent-up frustration, "If he loves me, then why doesn't he say so?"

Relena sighed as she glanced at Heero, but she was speaking to Dorothy. "Some men are just too afraid of getting hurt."

Heero gave Relena a half smile. 

Relena looked at Dorothy with a told-you-so lift to her brows.

Dorothy wanted to believe them, but while Quatre said nothing to her, his actions spoke volumes. "Just how long will I have to wait before he trusts me enough to say it?"

"In his present state of mind," began Heero, "until hell freezes over."

Dorothy felt her eyes watering again.

Relena laughed and put an arm around her. "Don't listen to him! Get some rest, make yourself as beautiful as you can, and Heero will be at his most charming and handsome tonight. There's nothing like a little jealousy to give a man a good kick in the rear. I guarantee that you're going to hear what you want."

"Either that or I'm going to have my brains blown out by several middle-eastern types," snorted Heero.

Dorothy dared to hope that Relena was right. 


	24. Chapter 24

****

Chapter 24

"Are you sure that you aren't going to attend the ball?"

Quatre looked up from the newspaper he had been staring at not reading a word printed to see that Trowa had come out of his room buttoning his dress shirt. After he left Jamila's party because he didn't think he could stand to be near Dorothy and Heero without causing a scene and making a fool of himself, he had lunch with Trowa. Although he hadn't seen Trowa in more than five years, they had become so close during the war the Quatre felt that he could confide anything in him. Trowa had listened with a sympathetic ear, but Quatre sensed that Trowa thought he had lost his mind. 

The respectable life that Quatre had constructed for himself had disintegrated into a pile of muck reported on page two of the papers, that is when he wasn't screwing underage girls, and then his life was splashed on the front page. He didn't need to add murder to his list of accomplishments although if he actually did have the courage to shoot a gun, the moment he pulled the trigger would probably just feel as good as watching Heero Yuy fall into a bloody heap at Dorothy Catalonia's feet.

"That's not a healthy look on your face," commented Trowa as he joined Quatre on the couch. Quatre had given him a ride to the hotel his friend had booked, and seeing that it wasn't a pleasant venue, he offered Trowa one of the spare rooms at his suite. Trowa hadn't turned him down and Quatre was glad to have the company.

Quatre tried to smile, then gave up. "I need a drink."

"I'll get you some water." Trowa started to get up.

"I'd prefer something a little stronger."

Trowa smiled and sank back on the couch. "Sorry, Quatre, but I already searched the place top to bottom for some liquor and there isn't a drop to be had."

Because the hotel staff knew that Quatre didn't drink, that it was against his religion, they had the good stuff cleared out so not to offend him. To add insult to injury, he had smoked his last cigar on the way to the hotel and transportation services had misplaced his luggage. While they were extremely apologetic, Quatre was furious to discover that his luggage had been unloaded on L3 with Yaminah Al-Jazar. He could call room service to have some liquor delivered so that he could at least dull his senses a bit, but he knew some greedy bellhop would be reporting his indulgence to the papers before he delivered it to his room. 

"So, are you going to stay here?" asked Trowa as he tried unsuccessfully to twist his tie into a bow.

Annoyed by his friend's lack of progress, Quatre leaned forward and did his tie for him. "You don't get out much, do you?"

"Clowns don't get invited to presidential formal balls very often," Trowa said with a chuckle. "I'm surprised that Relena invited me."

"I guess she can be more graceful about letting Heero go." Quatre's insides twisted and he felt acute pain in his heart. Maybe Relena didn't love Heero so it was easier for her to move on.

Trowa shook his head. "I still can't believe…" He was looking at Quatre oddly. "After what happened on the Libra…"

"Just spit it out! You can't believe I fell in love with that woman?"

"She must have really put some moves on you." Trowa chuckled suggestively.

Quatre gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, then fought the urge to strike his friend for making a comment like that about Dorothy. When he had relaxed a bit, he said, "I put the moves on her. I did to her what the press claims I do to several girls a day. Except in her case, I fell in love."

"Are you going to do anything about it? Are you just going to let Heero Yuy snatch her from you? The guy clearly doesn't deserve her." Trowa left the couch and headed back to his room. When he came out, he was carrying a tuxedo jacket over his arm. "Come to the ball with me and Relena."

The last thing Quatre wanted was to show up at the president's ball with the other jilted party. "I don't have anything to wear."

Trowa chuckled. "I'm sure the hotel can arrange to send a tailor."

"I'm not going." Quatre needed some time to think this problem through. Watching Dorothy glide around a ballroom in Heero Yuy's arms was only going to make him do something incredibly stupid. If he had a little more time, he could find a way to control his jumpy nerves and aching heart.

The doorbell to the suite rang, and Quatre turned to watch a butler cross the room to answer it. He announced the arrival of Relena Darlian, then stepped aside for her to enter, taking her satin and fur wrap. She went to Trowa first to kiss his cheeks.

"My, my, my, I'm going to have to fight off the women tonight in order to get a dance with you, Mr. Barton. Why is it that you haven't been snagged by some lucky woman?"

Trowa laughed, then allowed her to help him on with the jacket. "I guess most women aren't interested in guys who wear pancake white makeup and paint stars on their faces."

Quatre set aside his newspaper and studied Relena as she smoothed away any wrinkles in Trowa's jacket and straightened his tie. She was dressed in a stunning designer gown of dark blue satin, the diamonds at her throat and in her ears twinkling in the light as she moved. Men would look at her twice tonight, and maybe that was what she needed to help move on from her soured relationship with Heero. Quatre needed a drink or one of his special cigars.

As if she could sense his gaze, she turned to look at him, and her brows were arched in surprise. "Aren't you going to the ball?"

"He doesn't have a suit," Trowa explained in a tone that suggested he didn't believe Quatre. 

Relena frowned at him. "You wouldn't dream of insulting the president by not attending, would you?"

"Give him my sincere apologies. I don't care what load of shit you give as an excuse," said Quatre, returning her frown.

He noticed Relena and Trowa glance at each other with what appeared to be pity before Relena sighed. "Well, I guess I'm stuck watching Heero dance with Dorothy all night."

"Have a good time," Quatre told her without meaning it. 

"I'll be down in a minute," Trowa told Relena.

Relena gave Quatre one last look as the butler settled her wrap over her shoulders. "I'm sorry that you're not coming to the ball. I'll give the president your regrets."

After she had gone, Trowa came to sit on the coffee table directly in front of Quatre. "So, are you going to sit here all night nursing your wounded pride and broken heart?"

"Why bother nursing it?" asked Quatre, not looking at his friend. "It won't heal anyway."

Trowa reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Take a chance, Quatre, because if you don't, you'll probably end up regretting it for the rest of your life."

Quatre looked at Trowa's face, and he managed to smile. "I'm sorry that we haven't kept in touch."

Trowa shrugged and stood, his hand still on Quatre's shoulder. "Whatever you do, I'm still your friend."

He watched him leave, then Quatre left the couch and walked over to the balcony. As he stood outside, he watched the sun set and thought about his behavior earlier, especially with Jamila. Quatre had thought he would be able to listen to Dorothy's explanation without reacting, but watching her fumble for the words to tell him how her relationship with Heero Yuy had progressed to something deeper, he had lost the ability to think clearly. Quatre knew that Jamila was probably hurt by his abrupt departure from her party, but he couldn't stay a moment longer. Seeing Dorothy with Heero Yuy was too painful for him. 

When he had left L4, his hopes had been soaring, and now they were crashed. What would he do now? Spend his life looking forward to seeing Dorothy for a few minutes when they handed Jamila back and forth like a toy, knowing that he could have nothing but those few glimpses and the idle conversation they would make. Would that be enough for him? Would he one day meet a woman that could take her place in his heart? The thought formed a lump in his throat. There would never be another woman who could make him feel as she did! He couldn't be whole without her.

So why was he standing around on his balcony long for her while another man held her in his arms? Disgusted, Quatre strode into the suite, picked up the phone and called the front desk. He paced anxiously as he waited the thirty minutes it took for the response to his request. A tailor whose business was a couple blocks away arrived with several tuxedos and a handful of assistants, and between the lot of them they had Quatre dressed in less than an hour. The tailor was paid well for his trouble, and Quatre tipped his assistants probably a year's wage because they were speechless as they left tripping over their feet.

Calling for his limousine, Quatre rode down the elevator, alternating between trying to bolster his courage and berating himself for causing himself further pain and humiliation. Stepping out of the elevator, he ignored the photographers who seemed to leap out of no where to snap pictures of him, then signaled to his men with a snap of his fingers to follow him to the car. His heart was pounding, his stomach was churning and he felt light-headed as the limousine smoothly moved through the traffic toward the president's palace. He didn't know what to expect from Dorothy, but he couldn't fear her rejection now. He had too much to lose.

The ball had begun at seven o'clock. Quatre noticed by the clock in the car that it was now almost nine o'clock. He was beyond fashionably late, but by the standards of these affairs, no one would be thinking about leaving until well after midnight. His men escorted him to the door where uniformed Preventer agents stood guard. Quatre paused in the threshold, took a deep breath, then moved forward with his heart pounding so erratically that his knees started to feel wobbly, but he managed to make it to the entrance of the ballroom.

He stood at the top step to the sunken ballroom, waiting for an announcement, and seeing that the man responsible for the duty was already gone for the evening, Quatre looked out over the dancing couples. He spotted the man and woman he sought almost immediately. Dorothy was wearing a crimson chiffon gown that seemed to float around her, her skirt clinging intimately to the legs of her dance partner. She was gazing at his face, and he was saying something that made her smile.

Quatre's courage almost left him, but he hauled it back, then started down the steps, vaguely realizing that he had walked past the president of the Earth Sphere United Nation who had stepped forward to greet him with his hand extended. He couldn't breathe, he didn't know how he managed to keep walking, and if couples hadn't parted and drifted away to make a path for him, Quatre doubted he could have proceeded without falling into them and tripping over his own feet. By the time he reached them, he was dizzy and while he intended to merely tap Heero Yuy, his hand fell heavily on his shoulder when he almost lost his balance.

Staring at the two gowns that had been delivered to her house by the designer for her to choose from, Dorothy wasn't really looking at the form fitting black beaded gown or the crimson chiffon that would probably cling indecently to her despite the generous skirt. She thought many times about not attending the ball. Quatre didn't seem to like being pushed into a corner as she had done on their last trip to Barbados when she issued her ultimatum. The games they played with each other's feelings were ridiculous and childish, and if they didn't soon stop, not just Jamila, but another innocent child would be caught in the middle. Dorothy was going to have to act to put an end to this nightmare. She had made up her mind.

She would wear the black.

It fit her mood.

"Are you about ready up there?" Heero shouted up the steps, having arrived almost an hour ago. She hoped he wasn't getting drunk on her best wine.

"Just a minute!" she called back down, then noticed Jamila standing bleary eyed in the doorway, holding her teddy bear by its leg. "Oh, sweetheart, I didn't know you were awake!"

Jamila rubbed her eyes, yawned, then looked at the gowns hanging on the outside of the closet doors. "Are you going to dance with Papa?"

"I hope so," she told Jamila sincerely.

Dropping the teddy bear, she crossed the room, touched both gowns, then continued to rub the soft, willowy chiffon of the crimson gown. "Wear this one!"

"Hurry up!" shouted Heero from below. "The traffic is going to be hell if we don't get going now!"

Shrugging off her dressing gown, Dorothy quickly took Jamila's advice and pulled on the sleeveless, strapless gown, then bent down so that her daughter could help her with the zipper. The bodice was so tight that it pushed her breasts up and Dorothy remembered why she had decided on the black. She was going to end up spending the evening looking down to make sure she wasn't falling out of the heart-shaped bodice.

"It's pretty," Jamila announced. 

Dorothy leaned down, opened the safe in her closet and rifled through the dozens of velvet covered cases until she found a set of garnets set in gold that closely matched the color of her gown. 

"Two minutes!" Heero shouted up the steps. "I'm leaving in two minutes with or without you."

If Jamila hadn't been with her Dorothy might have responded with some choice words to blister his ears, but she wanted to set a good example for her daughter so she didn't say anything at all. As Dorothy clipped on her dangling earrings, Jamila worked to close the clasp of the heavy necklace. Although she finished long before Jamila, Dorothy waited patiently for Jamila to complete her task, and then she turned to kiss her. 

"How do I look?" Dorothy asked as she twirled around before her.

"Good enough," said Heero Yuy from the doorway. "Let's go."

"Wait!" Jamila dashed to Dorothy's dressing table and hurried back holding her makeup case. "You forgot this!"

Heero looked at her arsenal, then made a sound of disgust and disappeared from the doorway. "I'll pick you up tomorrow," she heard him mutter as he headed back downstairs.

Dorothy sat at her dressing table and carefully applied her makeup while Jamila watched, looking from Dorothy to the mirror and back again, asking exactly what she was doing and why. Dorothy explained, and after she had finished, she put a bit of lipstick and blush on Jamila, which delighted her daughter. After dabbing rose scented perfume on her wrists and at the pulse on her neck then on Jamila's nose, Dorothy finally slipped on her sandals and grabbed a sable stole from the closet.

"Be a good girl and don't give Rashid or Mrs. Milton any trouble tonight." Retrieving the teddy bear from the floor, she took Jamila's hand and led her across the hall to the room that Dorothy had once decorated for her baby. Now it was the room of a little girl, pink and white, yet with the same faded teddy bear wallpaper she had put on the wall herself almost six years ago with loving care in anticipation of bringing her baby home to this room.

After helping Jamila into her pajamas, Dorothy waited patiently as Jamila went through a ritual of prayer in Arabic, and when she was finished, she helped her into the bed and kissed her forehead.

"I'm going to see Papa tomorrow," Jamila reminded her. "Tell him not to forget."

Dorothy caressed her cheek and pushed back stray platinum wisps of hair from her face. "He won't forget, Jamila."

Jamila pulled her teddy bear close to her and closed her eyes. "Good-night, Mama."

Heero was pacing when she came into the living room. He stopped to look at her, then huffed with exasperation. "Did you have to dress like that?"

"Sorry. I'll go put on a pair of coveralls if it makes you feel safer." Dorothy tossed the stole to him. "Put it on me unless you want to wait for me to stuff the goods back in my dress if I have to do it myself."

"I'd be happy to," he said as he quickly draped the stole over her shoulders. "Relena had better not be wearing something like this."

"I believe that hers is black and also has slits up both sides." Dorothy smiled when Heero frowned darkly.

"Barton better keep his hands to himself."

Before she left, Dorothy stopped in the kitchen to inform both Rashid and her housekeeper of her departure. Rashid was enjoying a plate of cake left from the party as Mrs. Milton dealt him a hand of cards. The scene would have been warmly domestic if it weren't for the long-barreled pistol lying on the table near his hand.

Dorothy was annoyed that Heero was still driving the car Quatre had left for him, partly because she disliked the sports cars, but mostly because she didn't enjoy fitting herself in the passenger side while wearing a gown worth enough money to feed a family of four for a year and a stole that would buy them decent housing. She grit her teeth when Heero slammed the door before she could get her skirt completely in the car. 

"I think I know why you and Relena don't openly date," she remarked as she opened the door and pulled her skirt inside before he had a chance to pull away from the curb.

Surprisingly, Heero didn't drive nearly as recklessly as Quatre so Dorothy could relax and did not have to grip the door handle until her knuckles were white. In fact, his careful driving was so completely opposite of Quatre's that she caught herself wishing he would go just a little over the posted speed limit. When he stayed behind an elderly woman on the freeway instead of passing her, Dorothy lost her patience.

"I'd like to get there tonight," she commented.

"I'm not in all that big a hurry now," said Heero. "I don't know what Winner is going to do."

Dorothy laughed. "You're not afraid of him, are you? He's not violent."

His cell phone rang and he pulled it out, flipped it open and answered. She couldn't glean any information from his grunts, so she didn't bother trying. 

After snapping it shut and slipping it in his pocket again, he told her, "That was Trowa Barton. Winner's not going to attend. He left him sulking at the hotel."

"Damn him!" Dorothy spun to look at Heero. "Drive me to his hotel now!"

"We're going to the ball. Relena is expecting us. She thinks Quatre will break and change his mind."

"Great! Now I'm going to spend the evening hoping futilely that he'll show up!"

"At least you don't have to spend the evening looking over your shoulder," grumbled Heero.

Dorothy had no choice but to accompany Heero to the presidential palace and try to act as if she weren't seething with anger and ready to melt into tears. The president and his wife greeted her warmly and congratulated her on her charity work before asking about Jamila and expressing a desire to meet her. 

As Heero took her wrap to check in, Dorothy looked about for Relena, and seeing her standing with Trowa Barton on the other side of the ballroom, she headed toward them, but she had to stop suddenly when she came face to face with Tracy James.

"Miss Catalonia! How nice to see you again!" The other woman's greeting embrace gated on Dorothy's nerves. "I was hoping you would be attending. Did Quatre Winner escort you?"

Dorothy made a mental note to ask Heero to frame her for a crime. "No, I am with Heero Yuy."

"I was hoping to arrange some photo opportunities to publicize the work of the Romefeller Foundation," said the other woman with a smile.

Dorothy raised a brow. "Are you asking on behalf of the Earth Sphere United Nation?"

To her surprise, Tracy's face grew pink. "I left the government public relations department. I've started my own business."

Left? Dorothy knew by the other woman's sudden embarrassment that she had been fired. She wondered whose toes she had stepped on. "Do you have a card? Maybe I'll give you a call."

Tracy fished in her handbag and handed Dorothy her embossed business card. "I'd love to work with you again."

Dorothy smiled as she noticed Heero approaching. "It was nice seeing you."

As the other woman drifted away, Heero took her place, plucked the card from Dorothy's hand and tossed it over his shoulder before putting his hand on her back and guiding her forward.

"So?" she asked with a raised brow.

Heero looked over his shoulder at Tracy James, then back to Dorothy. "So what?"

"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything to her. Could be she was screwing the boss. Could be that the boss' wife received rather graphic photographs of their activities. Could be the boss had to fire her or face an ugly scandal and the loss of his own job."

"You haven't taken up photography, have you?" she asked with a raised brow.

He didn't answer because they joined Relena and Trowa. Trowa took Dorothy's hand and raised it to his lips, and she smiled at his suave façade now when that afternoon his face was brightly painted, and he had been wearing baggy, patched pants and gigantic oversized shoes. 

"You look lovely, Miss Catalonia."

"And you look quite debonair, Mr. Barton."

Trowa glanced at Heero. "You don't mind if I dance with your date."

"Are you wearing a bullet-proof vest? I am."

Trowa chuckled as he led Dorothy to the dance floor. "I don't think Quatre is that desperate."

She took his hand and placed her other hand on his arm. "Do you think he is going to attend? I want a chance to explain."

Trowa began to sway with her to the slow, melodic strains of music. "He'll be here. I know how he feels. What I don't know, is how you feel."

"I haven't made a secret of my feelings," she said with a sigh. "I told him that I love him six years ago and my heart hasn't changed despite everything that has happened."

"I was hoping you would say that. I don't like seeing him with a broken heart." Trowa swung her around to dance in another direction. Dorothy was glad that she was feeling better or that move would have sent her racing for the ladies' room.

They danced for several minutes, and the conversation switched to Trowa's work. She wasn't surprised that his act was usually acrobatic because she could feel his sinewy muscles as they danced. Although he didn't usually perform for private parties, he was happy to go out of his way to entertain Jamila Al-Winner.

After he returned her to Heero at the conclusion of the song, she remained with Relena as the men left to find them something to drink. 

"He's not going to come," predicted Dorothy.

"I have faith in him," Relena told her. 

"I'm going to the hotel," decided Dorothy aloud.

The men returned, and Relena took the glass of champagne Trowa brought her and Dorothy had to settle with a glass of ginger ale. She danced with Heero then, and later she danced with Bill Morley who looked quite out of place in a tuxedo. He told her that he regretted receiving her resignation because he had some cases that she would be ideal for, in particular some nasty business on L2 since she was already acquainted with some of the principal suspects. Dorothy respectfully declined, and when she informed him why, he fell silent in embarrassment. 

As the evening wore on, Dorothy's feet hurt from her sandals and she was giving up hope that Quatre would make an appearance. There had been no new arrivals at the ball for at least an hour, so she began to mentally plan what she would say to him at the hotel. She didn't care about her pride anymore. Maybe her love for him would be enough to keep their family together. Despite the stories she had read about him, Dorothy knew that Quatre wouldn't hurt her by seeing other women behind her back. She trusted him.

"I think it's my turn again," said Heero wearily.

"It is only nine o'clock," Dorothy commented as they found a place to dance on the crowded floor. 

"My feet hurt and that vest was so damn hot I had to take it off." He swung her around as they danced. "Do you mind if Trowa Barton takes you home?"

"I think he came with Relena."

"I'll give him the car. You're going his way anyway."

Dorothy didn't say anything more as she danced with Heero, but after a moment, a strange tingle of excitement raced down her spine, and she looked over Heero's shoulder to see Quatre appear in the doorway. 

"Did you shiver?" asked Heero suddenly.

Dorothy smiled up at Heero. "Keep dancing and shut up." She tried not to be obvious as she watched Quatre descend the steps without a proper announcement. 

"Holy shit! He's here, isn't he? I just took the vest off ten minutes ago."

The president quickly left the discussion he was having with Relena to approach Quatre, but the latter blatantly ignored him as he stepped onto the dance floor.

"I can't breathe," Dorothy told Heero. 

"I can't either. How close is he?"

The sea of dancers was parting for him as he took a direct route to them. 

"Does he have something shiny and metallic in his hand?"

Dorothy looked up at Heero, and seeing that he was smiling down at her, she knew that he had been teasing. She returned his smile. "I think that you're safe."

But Quatre's hand came down on Heero's shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. They stopped dancing for a moment, and Heero glanced at Quatre's hard face before leaning to whisper in Dorothy's ear, "It's up to you now. Don't blow it." Then he stepped back, shoved his hands in his pants pockets and walked away.

Quatre took her hand, slipped an arm around her waist, and if he hadn't moved so swiftly into the dance, her knees would have given out. Her pulse raced as he swung her around, ignoring the other dancers who quickly moved out of the way so that Quatre Raberba Winner could monopolize the floor.

For several moments he didn't speak as his eyes locked on hers, and Dorothy didn't breathe as she felt her very soul touched by the intensity of his blue gaze. The music played on and on, repeating over and over again as they danced alone, gliding round and round the ballroom in perfect rhythm until he stopped abruptly and she fell against him.

As Quatre cupped her face with his hands, she steadied herself by gripping the lapels of his tuxedo. "I may be too late, Dorothy, but I have to tell you how I feel," he said softly. He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. "I love you, Dorothy Catalonia. If you tell me that you love Heero Yuy, I won't cause the two of you any trouble, but I hope that you will give me a second chance."

She opened her mouth to tell him how mistaken he was, but he continued.

"I didn't want to fall in love with you, because I came to realize that I wasn't good enough for you. I proved myself unworthy of your love over and over again by not giving you my trust. I was a fool, Dorothy, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"You're right," she managed to say as she slid her fingers up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. "You were a fool. But I've never stopped loving you, Quatre, not even when the dream ended."

"What about Heero Yuy?" asked Quatre.

Dorothy smiled as she pulled his head down to hers. "I think he'll find a way to get over his heartbreak."

The following morning when Dorothy awoke, she felt disoriented, first because she didn't feel sick, and second because there was a warm body in her bed holding her close. Glancing up, she saw that Quatre was still sleeping, a peaceful expression on his mature, angelic face. Turning to look at the clock, she saw that it was still early and that she must have dozed less than an hour. Smiling, she stretched out against Quatre and slid her arm across his bare chest.

"I'm tired," he groaned, but he popped open an eye to look at her. 

She rolled over on top of him and ran her fingers through his hair. "We didn't get a chance to talk much last night."

Quatre strained forward to kiss her lips, which were puffy and tender from unrestrained passion the night before. "We shouldn't talk. I might say something that will make you run away." His hands slid down her bare body and back up again. "I have a better idea."

Dorothy liked his idea, but she had something to tell him, so she rolled off before he could act on it. "I promise that we won't argue. And besides, this is my house and I'm not running away and leaving you in it. You'd smoke in the garden and kill my roses. But seriously, I have something to tell you."

The door to her room opened, and Jamila stood blinking at them for a moment before she dashed to the bed and hopped up, her sharp little limbs poking and kneeing in places that, from the wide-eyed, agonized look on Quatre's face, made him forget all about his earlier idea. "I knew you wouldn't forget, Papa!" But as she wriggled between them on top of the covers, she whispered to Dorothy, "Good idea, Mama. With Papa sleeping here, he couldn't have a chance to forget."

Quatre was trying not to let Jamila know how much pain he was in, and Dorothy was trying not to laugh. "Why don't you go back to your room and give us a chance to get up?" he suggested to his daughter when he managed to catch his breath.

Jamila ignored him as she looked at Dorothy again and whispered, "Did you tell him about my brother?"

Quatre raised his brows. "Brother?"

Dorothy smiled at him. "Do you remember that I was trying to tell you something yesterday before you decided to marry me off to Heero Yuy?"

"Mama is having a baby!" burst out Jamila.

His eyes widened with surprise, and for a moment Dorothy feared he would deny being the father. But he reached out to her and pulled her into his arms. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Not in at least an hour," she responded.

As he kissed her, Jamila hopped on the bed.

"We're going to be a family!"


	25. Epilogue

Epilogue

Stepping off the plane and onto the concourse, Heero could see by the bright sun streaming through the plate glass windows that he was going to regret wearing his Preventer uniform. Gripping his briefcase to be sure he still had it, he reminded himself that he was on official business, although he did plan to get a little rest and recreation while he was in Barbados. 

As he stepped out into the sunshine, he didn't even have enough time to hail a taxi when a smiling man that Heero categorized immediately as a slick car salesman waved to him. He was standing before a car that would take Heero at least two lifetimes to afford on his generous salary.

"Are you Heero Yuy?" asked the man, still smiling.

He nodded, but his eyes were on the car. 

The man dangled a set of keys. "Compliments of Mr. Winner."

Heero took the keys, then eased into the soft leather interior of the convertible. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out and slipped on a pair of sunglasses, then tested the capabilities of the car's acceleration by ripping out of the loading bay, narrowly missing a baggage handler. Wealth had its privileges, he thought with a smile as he raced down the highway, and so did having wealthy friends.

Checking the onboard computer navigation, he entered the address of his destination and the fastest route to reach it appeared on a small screen. He had last seen Dorothy and Quatre three months ago after their son, Quasim, was born. Before and after the birth of their child, both had been very busy, Quatre with his corporate business and Dorothy with her charity work and caring for her children. They were taking a much needed rest, and Heero didn't like bothering them even though they had insisted he stay in Barbados for a little vacation of his own.

The island wasn't very big, so soon enough he had pulled off the main highway and headed down an infrequently traveled road that led to a house on the beach. He thought he might have mistaken someone else's property for the Winner beach house given Quatre Winner was the wealthiest man in the solar system and he had married the wealthiest woman. The house was small, and the steps creaked as Heero climbed up.

But a familiar face answered his knock at the door. Rashid smiled and shook his hand. "Welcome, Mr. Yuy. We've been expecting you. Do you have luggage in the car?"

Heero liked to travel light. "Just my briefcase."

Rashid led him to a room that was in a recently constructed addition. "You'll have to excuse the cramped accommodations. The new house won't be completed until some time next year."

"Is Quatre here?"

Rashid crossed the room and slid open a screen door. "On the beach. I'll bring you something cold to drink if you'd like."

"A beer would be nice. I don't suppose you have any of that around." Heero dropped his briefcase on the bed and pulled off his uniform jacket. 

"Shall I have it served to you on the beach?"

Heero raised a brow.

Rashid smiled. "Miss Dorothy likes to have a beer from time to time."

Heero chuckled. He doubted Dorothy Catalonia was going to become a tea drinking Muslim any time soon. Snapping open his briefcase, he shoved aside his traveling essentials, then pulled out a file. Again he felt somewhat guilty for involving his hosts in Preventer business, but he had little choice. 

When he stepped out of the beach house, he looked out over the white expanse of beach and spotted the Winner family. Dorothy was in the water, apparently teaching Jamila how to swim, while Quatre was sprawled under a large beach umbrella. As Heero approached, he saw that Quatre was stretched out snoring on a chaise lounge, his infant son snoozing and drooling on his chest.

Looking around the beach, he spotted the new beach house not far away from the present structure. Somewhat larger, it appeared, however, that it would be just as cozy as this one.

"Heero!"

Dorothy's shout from the water startled Quatre and his son would have rolled onto the hot sand if Heero hadn't reached down to scoop him up. While Quatre rubbed his eyes and fought to get his bearings, the baby started to whimper and would have burst into a full-blown wail, but Heero tucked him in his arm and bounced him a bit. The crisis had been averted.

"You're pretty good at that," commented Quatre after a yawn. 

"Observation," said Heero. 

"Could come in handy some day."

"Not any time too soon." Relena wasn't ready to marry and have children. Heero had asked her after Quatre and Dorothy's wedding, and her only answer was a smile and the words, "Not quite yet." They were only twenty-five years old although Heero was starting to feel closer to fifty. Her refusal didn't bother him since he asked because it seemed like the right thing to do. If she had accepted, he wasn't sure how he would have reacted. Retracting a marriage proposal was touchy business.

Dorothy came to them and sat before Quatre on the lounge chair. "Where is Relena?" she asked as Quatre draped a towel around her shoulders. Heero was glad he had done that because he was a bit uncomfortable to see her wearing so little clothing and dripping wet at that. 

"She couldn't make it," he told her. The baby was getting restless in his arm, and it was rubbing its face against Heero's shirt, reminding him of a blind newborn puppy rooting for its mother.

Dorothy reached out her arms. "You had better hand over Quasim. Once he realizes that he's not getting anything from you, you're going to hear a scream unlike any you've ever heard."

The baby was whimpering already, so Heero quickly passed him off and the baby disappeared under her towel. Quatre's hands were under her towel, so Heero guessed that he had unhooked her bikini top because after a moment the baby stopped whimpering.

"I'm sorry Relena couldn't make it," commented Dorothy. "I was looking forward to spending some time with her."

"Trouble on L2," he said. "In fact, I was able to write off this trip as a business expense." Wishing he didn't have to, he held up the file. "I have some questions to ask you, Dorothy, about your visit to L2."

"Ah! Here comes Rashid, the life saver!" Dorothy obviously didn't want to be questioned about the time she had run away from Quatre on L4.

Rashid dropped a plastic cooler on the ground. "I thought everyone might want something." He pulled out an icy cold beer, which Dorothy snagged before Heero could take it.

"Thank you, Rashid. You certainly know what hits the spot."

Quatre chuckled as he handed Heero another one, then took a bottle of ice tea. Seeing the arrival of refreshments, Jamila left the shore and hovered over Rashid, looking into the cooler before choosing a box of fruit juice. She sat on a towel under the umbrella and buried her toes in the sand while she sipped from a small straw.

Lifting the cooler, Rashid said, "Let me know if you need anything else." Then he trudged back up to the beach house.

"Is he your bodyguard or personal servant?" asked Heero as he watched the large man disappear into the house.

Quatre sighed. "Rashid does as he wishes. He likes to perform these little tasks."

"Jamila, did you greet Heero?" asked Dorothy.

Jamila waved as she continued to suck on her straw. Heero nodded in her direction and he heard Dorothy sigh with exasperation.

"You're a bad influence, Heero Yuy." Dorothy put the cold bottle of beer against her forehead. "This feels good."

"How about this?" The hand in which Quatre was holding his ice tea disappeared under the towel, and Dorothy shrieked and arched away.

Jamila giggled.

Heero laughed. 

Quatre sat back to sip on his bottle, but his other hand was under the towel rubbing her back. Dorothy relaxed and looked over her shoulder at him. The look they shared warmed Heero's heart when he considered all that they had gone through to reach this point. He took a long drink from his beer, then set it on a small table nearby.

"I'm sure you know that the government has had a great deal of difficulty on L2 dealing with crime."

"I fired an entire managerial staff for laundering drug money," Quatre remarked. "I don't know if I can trust those who took their place. So what does this have to do with Dorothy?"

Heero turned to Dorothy. "I'm trying to locate Duo Maxwell. I was hoping he could help the Preventers, but he seems to have disappeared."

"You don't think anything has happened to him?" asked Dorothy with concern.

"After his business sunk because of some bad financial decisions on his part..."

"You mean his gambling?" Dorothy frowned with disapproval. "He owed money to just about every dirtbag on the colony. What money I gave him to help me he blew on one race at the track."

Heero peeled open his file and showed Dorothy a page of pictures. "Do you recognize any of these men?"

She studied the pictures as she carefully put her son on her shoulder to pat his back. Heero was mildly amused when the air in the baby's tummy forced a sticky glob of milk to jettison straight to middle of Quatre's tanned chest.

Jamila giggled.

Heero looked away from Quatre who was muttering something in Arabic that probably wasn't blessings for his son as he wiped it away. Dorothy had squirreled the baby under her towel again, and now she pointed to one of the men. "This is the man that forged my papers. Maxwell called him Bluto although I don't think that was his real name." When Dorothy shuddered, the baby whimpered. "I was glad Maxwell was with me when we paid him a visit because I did not like how he was looking at me. I was afraid I was going to have to shoot him."

"How about these other men? Did you see them with Maxwell at any time?"

Dorothy looked at the pictures again, then shrugged. "I don't remember them, but then I didn't hang around L2 very long, and I certainly didn't get too friendly with Duo Maxwell. He lived in a dump in the worst part of his sector."

"Too bad," commented Quatre. "He was a good gundam pilot and a nice guy."

"With a bad habit," added Dorothy. "He wouldn't be the first to ruin his life with that habit." She pulled the baby out and Heero saw that little Quasim was sleeping. "Put me back together, will you Quatre? I'll take Quasim up to the house so he can take a nap."

Quatre picked up a bottle of sunblock. "I have a better idea. Heero can take Quasim up to the house, and then he can take Jamila into town for some ice cream." 

Dorothy glanced back at his face, then looked down at the sunblock. "I like that idea."

Heero took the folder from her, then the baby, silently praying that it didn't have any ejection from either end. Quatre squirted some sunblock on his hand as he told Jamila to go with him.

Jamila obediently stood, wiped sand from her swimsuit and slipped on her sandals. After jamming the ugliest hat Heero had ever seen on her head, she walked beside Heero.

"What's the matter with you," he asked the sullen girl when they reached the verandah and Heero handed the sleeping baby over to the housekeeper.

"I already had ice cream in town today," she pouted.

"I thought all kids liked ice cream."

Jamila rolled her eyes. "Not all the time!"

Looking back to the beach, the reason for their request was obvious, and he looked back to Jamila with a smile. "So, Jamila, how many times do you have to get ice cream every day?" 

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After many attempts to end my story, I've finally done it! This thing just took on a life of its own. 

I was going to end it after the Barak clan was killed, but I couldn't see Dorothy letting Quatre off 

so easily, especially when he clearly thought her guilty. I was going to end it on L4 when Dorothy 

found out about Jamila, but I just didn't think Dorothy could be so forgiving after realizing that

Quatre knew the baby she had wanted so badly and lost was actually his daughter. He's lucky that 

she eventually did forgive him. Ending it in Barbados didn't seem right either. 

Anyway, I'm obviously bouncing around an idea with Duo Maxwell. My previous fanfictions paired

him with an original character, but I always thought he and Hilde made a cute couple. Heero and 

Relena will make appearances as well as my new favorite couple, Dorothy and Quatre (cameo only

because we don't want anything bad to happen to them).

Thanks for reading!

I'll try to make some time for writing - and so should you.

Shadow-Hawk

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End file.
